Give Me A Sign
by Nadin4400
Summary: If you have secrets, make sure they are well-hidden… "What is this, Ric?" Jenna asked if a little cautiously. "And why do you have these?" A handful of wooden bullets was lying in her palm." Better summary inside! Mid-S2, Jalaric-centered, mostly
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Give Me A Sign

**Summary**: So, what if Alaric did pick Jenna up as he promised in 2x14 _Crying Wolf_ so that she could stay with him to avoid John? He did. And it caused a series of shocking revelations, events that went out of control and consequences impossible to deal with that started with Alaric not being careful enough with his secrets. Seeds of doubt planted by John would do its dirty work.

**Char****acters**: Jenna/Alaric, Elena, Damon, Stefan, Elijah, John, Jeremy, and probably appearance or at least mentions of the rest of those who I don't have in mind at this point.

**Spoilers**: Up to 2x14 _Crying Wolf_

**Timeline**: Takes a spin-off after 2x14 _Crying Wolf_

**Rated: **M for future adult content

**Disclaimer**: Not mine as always

**Author's Note**: Well, I am now living in denial ever since 2x21 _The Sun Also Rises_ because I will never ever accept the fact that they had killed Jenna off, and especially – how they did it. So… there is not much that I can do about what they did. But there is no way to have the fanfics taken away from me!

The story will be slightly AU since I was finding the whole sun and moon curse ridiculous from the start. Not going to so much as acknowledge it.

"Give Me A Sign" is a song by Breaking Benjamin, its lyrics sort of clicks with the story, making it a perfect inspiration. And since most of what I've ever written was inspired by music, I got the idea for this fic a few months ago when I've heard it first. Hope you don't mind me using the song name for a title again ;)

And yeah, that means I am working on two stories at the same time. Which probably means that the updates of either of them would be more random but you will have more diversity :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 <strong>

_~I can feel you falling away_

_No longer the lost, no longer the same_

_And I can see you starting to break_

_I'll keep you alive if you show me the way_

_Forever - and ever the scars will remain_

_I'm falling apart, leave me here forever in the dark…_

"_Give Me A Sign" by Breaking Benjamin~_

Jenna awoke with a start, disturbed by the dream she couldn't remember. The moonlight was streaming through the half-open lace curtains forming an intricate pattern of light and shadows on the floor and the one of the walls of the bedroom in Alaric's apartment as the thin fabric swayed lightly in the breeze.

Careful, she slipped from underneath his arm and out of the bed. Shivering in cool air, she spotted one if his shirts draped casually over the back of the chair and pulled it on. Alaric stirred and sighed in his sleep, catching her attention just as she was about to leave the room. Smiling like a fool, which was totally out of her control, Jenna looped her hair around her ears, bent down and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek. "I'll be right back," she mouthed soundlessly, her insides fluttering.

In the kitchen, she leaned against one of the counters, a glass of water in hand and her mind reeling for the reason Jenna couldn't quite put her finger on yet, which bothered her endlessly. As if the answer was actually hovering somewhere very close, yet every time she was reaching out to finally grasp it, it kept slipping away. Was it really just about the dream that left a weird aftertaste? She couldn't recall a thing about it, which was frustrating. Or was there something else? Oddly, finding out what it was seemed to be pretty important.

She took a small sip of cold water and her gaze wandered around the conjoined living room as it trickled slowly down her throat. She liked Ric's place, it was spacious and cozy in a way. Yet, Jenna couldn't help noticing that it lacked some personality and all the things that were normally making one's home… well, home.

Absently, she pushed away from the counter and padded across the room, careful not to run into something not one hundred percent familiar with the place just yet, the hardwood floor cold beneath her feet where it wasn't covered with rugs. Books. He had lots and lots of books – three bookshelves stuffed from the floor to the ceiling.

Yet, he didn't have any silly souvenirs or other useless junk one was normally accumulating over the years, which made Jenna wonder if a little belatedly if it was about him being new to town and just having moved in and still settling, or if he was like that by nature, not a dust-collectors person. Also, it could have been a sign he wanted to have a fresh start leaving every single reminder of the part behind. Was there a way to asking about it without looking tactless or nosey?

She sighed subtly and traced a spine of one of the books on the shelf with her fingertips feeling the texture of the old leather cover against her skin. It was soft and dry, aged and a bit worn. It was a historian thing, Jenna guessed letting a small smile touch her lips. She threw a quick glace over her shoulder at the bedroom door, listening carefully, but everything remained quiet.

There were no photos anywhere, either. The only picture she'd ever seen in his apartment was the one of Isobel he used to have on his desk by computer. Jenna spotted it instantly the first time she came over. But it had been gone for quite a while now, and she never questioned it.

Isobel.

Her heat gave an uncomfortable leap and her stomach twitched, like a foreboding. They hadn't been talking much about her lately, what with Alaric obviously not being fond of the subject. If anything, Jenna respected it and never pushed. After all, he did make it clear that he had moved on and left the old story in the past. And once he made this point, the rest wasn't as important anymore. Not when she was seeing the way he was looking at her.

Yet, none of it seemed to matter right now. As much as Jenna hated to admit it, what John had told her – what he'd implied – seriously bothered her on more than one level. What did he mean by saying there was more to Isobel's death than she knew? What did Alaric know and wasn't telling her? And why on earth would John make it sound like—

Jenna cut herself off and shook her head in frustration. Why would she even give so much as a thought to what John was saying or thinking? It was John Gilbert, for heaven's sake! The biggest asshole and a jerk of her life – as in, _ever_! God knew what he'd say or do to inflict misery on someone else just for the hell of it. It would probably make a little more sense if she knew why he would do that of course, but then again him being involved with Isobel at some point in the past was most likely putting him at odds with Alaric by definition. Maybe he had a special pleasure in putting her at odds with Ric, too. She long used to take him being an ass for granted, no reasons needed.

Men. Jenna sighed and rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. She didn't have a single reason not to trust Alaric, and at least a thousand to think twice about each and every word John Gilbert was saying. So why was she even thinking about any of that now? Why would the words of the man she all but despised make her doubt the man she liked?

Okay, scratch that. She didn't just _like_ him, Jenna grimaced to herself. And seriously, what was she, twelve? It was more like she was desperately-and-hopelessly-head-over-heels-and-butterflied-in-the-stomach in love with Alaric Saltzman, in a _silly high-school girl kind of crush_ way… which somehow turned out to be an answer to the question all of a sudden. Being _that_ involved with Ric was making the stakes very high.

_Jeez, you're twisted_, a small evil voice inside of her head informed Jenna mischievously, and she cringed. Old habits died hard, and her trust issues had been challenged one too many times in the past to just brush it off. Even if John "asshole' Gilbert was involved. She sank down onto the sofa and chewed on her lower lip. She'd ask Alaric. Yes, she'd do just that, first thing in the morning, and it would probably turn out that whatever John was talking about wasn't worth even paying attention to in the first place. Ric wouldn't lie to her, right? Oddly, it was one of the things Jenna was fairly certain of.

Soothed by such a simple solution, she heaved a small sigh of relief, assured more than ever that John's words were nothing but some sort of a sick joke, which – _honestly?_ – she'd never put past him. Which suddenly made her decision to stay with Ric for a while very wise. God help her, but going violent on John was suddenly a bit too tempting for comfort, especially assuming that the place they ran into each other most often was kitchen, which was full of a bunch of dangerous sharp objects. Not that he wouldn't deserve it…

Jenna huffed to herself and was about to head back to bed, but then stilled when she saw something across the room.

Meanwhile, Alaric reached out for her in his sleep, and then pried his eyes open rather unwillingly, squinting and rubbing sleepiness out of them when all his hand found was empty space. "Jen?" He called in a low hoarse voice wondering where she could be, his mind too foggy and still half-asleep. She couldn't have left, _that_ he knew for sure, if only because it would instantly make the whole "Mind if I crash at your place before I killed John in some inhuman torturous way, twice?" pretty pointless.

"Jenna?" He called again when it became obvious that she wasn't hiding under the bed or behind the dresser, then sighed and climbed out of the bed to go and find her. Not that anything could have happened to her in the confines of his apartment but he just wanted to make sure everything was okay just in case it… wasn't. And he honestly couldn't help scowling at himself for being so paranoid. Wasn't it, like, topping the _ridiculous_?

Alaric found her in the living room and hesitated uncomfortably in the opening when he saw what she was holding in her hands – a folder too familiar he didn't need to look twice at it to recognize it. His heart sank for a moment and then jumped up and started beating dully somewhere in his throat, making Alaric somewhat dizzy and maybe a little sick.

"Jenna," he started in a quiet voice.

Well, maybe not quiet enough. It startled her, and Jenna span around and dropped the folder she'd been looking through down making the papers and file clippings scatter all over the floor at their feet. It didn't go past Alaric that she also made a step back and away from him as she watched him warily, everything about her tense and on alert now, and his heart ached at the sight. One didn't have to be a genius to know he was in trouble.

"What is this, Ric?" Jenna asked if a little cautiously, her eyes only torn away from him for the barest of moments to swipe the mess on the floor with one quick glance, as if she'd hoped it would magically disappear. Actually, her hope for it to happen was rather obvious. "And why do you have _these_?"

But before he could even come up with an idea of how to try and explain her findings – right after giving himself a mental kick for not hiding it properly in the first place, Jenna opened her fist and made everything so much more complicated by the second because now he could see what _exactly_ the last question was addressing. A handful of wooden bullets was lying in her palm. Well, of course, Alaric thought sourly. He didn't need to look down at the open drawer to know that she couldn't have possibly missed finding some stakes and vervain darts as well. Not the whole arsenal of course. Explaining compressed-air guns and crossbows would be that much harder, but still! Speak of making their lives just that more exciting, huh? There was no way for him to wiggle out of this mess gracefully.

So, of all the ways for Jenna to learn the truth, this was officially the worst one, ever.

Jenna kept quiet, staring at him wide-eyed and waiting. She didn't mean to pry, she never did. His privacy was what she respected the most. And come to think of it, she wasn't the snooping type in any case. But the cabinet drawer was slightly ajar, which, of course, wasn't a big deal but for some reason she decided she would like it to be closed, and it didn't give in when she pushed it. So, without so much as a second thought, and definitely not intending to go through his stuff or something, she opened it to see if maybe something got stuck there. And boy, had it been the worst decision of her life or what?

God, it wasn't ten minutes ago that she'd thought she'd call John on his crap about Alaric and rub it in his face. And then, just like that, she'd found the weapons at his place, the weird ones. And wait, were these _stakes_? Which happened moments before she saw the folder on the bottom on the drawer with what was a full file on Isobel's disappearance, and police reports, and a collection of articles on killings and missing people in and around Mystic Falls and the county in the last fifty years or so. And for a brief moment Jenna couldn't help suspecting that she had somehow became a part of a very bad horror movie – and no one bothered to give her a head start on it.

She swallowed hard and took yet another small step backwards, her mind working rather feverishly but not properly enough. She wanted to know the truth. She wanted to know why was he having all of this. And at the same time she wanted to escape. To be somewhere else – far, far away, preferably. And all of these articles he'd have filed up on murders and missing people in the area… Why would he have them? Why would he have all of that, for Christ's sake? It couldn't be true. It wasn't making any sense. It must be a mistake, she thought. It _had_ to be, right?

_So they found her body?... Why don't you ask Ric? _

"Jenna," his voice was soft and soothing when he spoke, which unfortunately did nothing good to actually sooth her. For some reason it only made everything worse because the bad horror movie feeling was back. "Just let me explain."

_Why don't you ask Ric?_

"No," she backed away putting just as much distance between them as she possibly could without actually pressing her back to the wall.

"Jenna—"

"This is crazy..." she muttered, not sure if she was addressing anyone in particular.

"Look, it's not what you think."

_Is it, ever?_ She thought bitterly, still having no idea what to make of all of this. Part of her knew that there had to be more to the story, the logical part. Yet, it was just too much to contemplate it right now.

The signs she knew she dismissed were now thrown in her face. The conversation with John. Alaric's… secrecy? She couldn't find a word for it but she could also no longer ignore the feeling of something being off about him and the way he sometimes ended conversations when she entered the room or offered her lamest excuses when he was late or couldn't make it. The way he chose not to meet her eyes. It was like finding the last piece of puzzle to finish the picture, except that the picture was a Picasso type and wasn't making any sense whatsoever.

And then the instincts kicked in. She didn't have a plan and honestly had no idea how it actually happened, but one moment she was standing and staring at Alaric in the middle of the living room, the wheels in her heads turning fast as she jumped from one theory to another, and the next thing she knew was that she was at the front door and reaching for the car keys on the small table in the hall. All of a sudden it somehow was the smartest thing to do because she really, really needed to get away. She needed to get out of this place and as far away from Alaric as possible. Apparently, to start thinking again, she needed to feel safe, and knowing that she couldn't feel that way around him anymore was the most painful realization she'd ever had in her life.

"Jenna," he made a small step towards her, cautious as if he was dealing with a panicked caged animal, which she, basically, was.

"Stay away from me."

And on that, she was in the outer hallway and running down the stairs, keys clutched tight in her hand and her heart beating so hard she thought it would break her ribs.

Cool air outside did nothing to calm her down either, and when she pushed the button and the car beeped, Jenna didn't pause for a moment before yanking the door open and climbing inside. The fact that she'd taken the wrong keys in the dark and that it was Alaric's car, didn't stop her. Finding out that it was huge and awkward compared to her much smaller one didn't do the job either. Thing was, it was weirdly comforting to know that she was putting a safe distance between herself and Ric as fast as 60 miles per hour went.

Oh god, she was insane. What was she doing? Why did she leave? She had to stay, they had to talk. And there had to be some simple and plain explanation to all of that weirdness, right? It was _Alaric_! What the hell was she thinking again?

Yet, while some common sense was making its way into her mind with a pace of a snail, a greater part of her was what was indeed pushing her forward.

Jenna's fingers flexed on the steering wheel as her eyes kept darting between the dark asphalt of the road ahead of her and the rearview mirror where she was half-fearing half-expecting to see the headlights of her own car in case Ric decided to follow. Would he? Did she want him to?

"Oh god," she breathed out as she navigated her way down the deserted streets of Mystic Falls until it finally struck her that she was, in fact, driving a practically stolen car and wearing nothing but Alaric's button-up shirt, its sleeves too long and getting in the way since she didn't think of rolling them up from the start and wasn't quite up to stopping and doing it now.

To be honest, Jenna wouldn't have been merely surprised if she ran into the patrol car this very moment, figuratively speaking of course. Explaining why she was driving the car that didn't belong to her, barefoot and half-naked, would be like a cherry on top of her night. It was just bound to happen, wasn't it? What with her bad luck lately. And no, the fact that the car had smelled of Ric's cologne on the inside – the scent she got used to associating with something very good – wasn't helping the matters, not really.

She hit the brakes hard when the Gilberts' house suddenly stepped out of the dark without her even noticing how she managed to get here so fast and all but slammed into the steering wheel on the impact. Was it fast? The time seemed to have a different pace now. She sagged against the back of the seat, almost hyperventilating and fighting to stop thinking before her head actually exploded.

Apparently, finding out that the man she'd been sleeping with for the last few months might have very well been a serial killer of some sort was slightly disturbing, to say the least. When did her life get so complicated, again? And why on earth was "bad luck" a definition of her love life?

_Because that's how we roll, baby_, Jenna told herself grimly.

On a sigh, she pushed the door open and climbed outside. The sight of the full moon shining high in the pitch black sky made her shiver. Or maybe it was the air that was damn and chilly. She padded across the lawn, wondering what were the odds of finding the spare key underneath one of the flowerpots. Otherwise, she guessed, she'd have to break in somehow since her own key was still lying somewhere in her bag which she didn't think of taking, what with all the hurry. Well, of course, waiting for a few hours outside was always an option. She might even have some fun if someone spotted her and called the police, Jenna added darkly in her mind. In case it happened before she froze to death or something, otherwise the whole buzz would be gone.

Much to her surprise, the key was exactly where it was supposed to be. Endlessly relieved – hey, maybe she didn't actually run out of good luck after all! – she walked inside and locked the door, gasping for air and only now taking note of how the adrenaline rush was making her limbs tremble. It was a miracle she didn't count the trees with the car bumper on her way here. Yet, she was indeed feeling much better now that she was home, and safe, and—

"Jenna?"

She whirled around, _that_ close to a heart attack for the second time this night, and it was only then that Jenna noticed what she probably had to pay attention to from the start. Well, in case she wasn't distracted by, say, a million of other things.

The lights were on in the hall – which could have meant a lot of different things, hadn't it been for Stefan and Elena that were standing in the narrow corridor leading to the kitchen. She must have interrupted a conversation of some sort, Jenna noted if a little vaguely, going back once again to her totally fucked up luck.

And then she suddenly became very well aware of _what_ they were seeing, their quizzical looks and arched eyebrows speaking volumes. The realization made color rise up her cheeks.

"Stefan…. Elena…" She started for lack of better words, and trailed off clearing her throat. "Shouldn't—shouldn't you be at the lake house?" _And save me a life-time worth f embarrassment?_

"Something came up," Elena began automatically, but then cut herself off and frowned. "What happened?" Her gaze traveled up and down her aunt's outfit, which Jenna would prefer to be a little more subtle.

Now _that_ was a very good question, Jenna all but cringed inwardly. And it would be kinda really awesome if someone stepped out and explained it to her as well.

"Um… nothing," she faked the lamest of unconvincing smiles.

Coming up with something remotely decent was just too much of an effort when her entire world had been turned upside down and totally crashed not an hour ago, and for once in her life she had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

In the grand scheme of things, running into Elena while being dressed in Alaric's shirt – _again_, speak of being a role model here – was probably the least of her problems. She'd think about explaining _that_ sometime soon. Maybe. Not that she actually needed to. But it definitely seemed like the right thing to do, parentally speaking. Sometime soon, though, did not mean now. Jenna shot a quick glance up the stairs. Yes, responsible and mature adult that she was, she really needed to scram, fast.

"I—I've got to—I'll see you in the morning."

Puzzled, Elena turned to Stefan.

"No idea," he said quickly, putting his hands up.

"I have to go and talk to her." The high-pitched shrill of her phone stopped her in her tracks though. "Alaric," she began warningly after hitting the answer button.

"_Elena, thank god_," he breathed out with obvious relief. "_You home? I was trying the landline but no one was answering_."

"Yes, we just got back—"

"_Is Jenna there?_"

Boy, he sounded frantic. "Yes, what's—"

"_Is she okay?_" Alaric didn't let her finish.

"Y—yes," Elena said again, somewhat reluctant. As far as _okay_ went in that situation at least. "What happened?"

"_God… you sure she is fine?_" He pressed on, ignoring her again.

"Yes. What's going on, Ric?" She demanded firmly at last.

There was a pause on the line that seemed to be thick and heavy and last forever. Still frowning, Elena looked up again, craning her neck as much as she could to see the door to Jenna's room and listening intensely. No sound came from behind it though, so she returned her full attention to the phone, waiting.

At last Alaric heaved a long exasperated sigh, and in her mind Elena imagined him shrinking like a balloon without air. "_I'm sorry, Elena, she—Jenna found something at my place_."

It took a few moments for the meaning of his words to kick in. "Wait..." she straightened up, her frown deepening momentarily as she met Stefan's eyes, knowing he could listen to both sides of the conversation. "Something like—?"

"_Yes_," he called back even though it was quite unnecessary. She already knew what it was about, didn't she? "_She freaked out, and… Look, I'll come over now. I'll be there in ten minutes and I'll talk to her, and—_"

"No," Elena pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the weight of the world downing on her shoulders. It was like letting a genie out of the bottle. Except that it was an evil genie. "Maybe it's better if she cools down a little first." _And maybe decide that it was nothing_, she thought hopelessly, knowing that it wouldn't work with Jenna. "What was there?"

"_My notes, vervain darks, stakes. I can't even begin to imagine what she must have thought about all of that_." Alaric paused again. "_It can't go on like that, Elena_," He said in a tired voice in the end. "_We have to tell her everything_."

**To be continued…**

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><p>Okay… What do you think?<p>

Part of me wanted something like that to happen on the show so, so bad! I can imagine how much fun it would've been to watch it :)

Can I please move to some alternate universe where the producers didn't make this stupid mistake and found a way to save Jenna? Please?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note**: First – that you so, so much for your reviews and comments! I have no words to say how much they mean to me! You're the best, guys :)

Also, I totally forgot to mention it in Chapter 1, but this video www. youtube. com/ watch?v=XsRcWSlkt90 (delete gaps) was initially made as a soundtrack to this story, if only because the lyrics kinda follows the storyline. I started writing "Give Me A Sign" first and made a video, then I put the story on hold in order to work on "Start Again" but still posted the video, which was a little bit aimless without fanfic… Oh well, just thought I'd let you know :)

Dig in!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

After hanging up, Alaric tossed his phone onto the couch, then sank desperately down and ran his fingers through his rumpled hair, letting out a long weary breath, his elbow propped on his thighs and his mind spinning like a carousel that went out of control, which was slightly weird because in this crazy whirlpool he failed to grasp a single coherent thought.

Well, okay, one was there – it couldn't be happening. The whole situation seemed to be nothing but a horrible twisted dream, and Alaric expected to wake up from it any moment, in his bed, with Jenna sleeping soundly by his side. Except that he knew that he wouldn't.

Damn it!

He rose up abruptly, feeling cornered and helpless. What should he have done? Should he have followed Jenna? Or was Elena right and giving her time to calm down was a good thing?

He wished he knew…

His first instinct was to rush over to the Gilberts immediately, and talk to her, and fucking explain everything at last, and make things right one way or the other. But that look on Jenna's face… of hurt, and shock, and betrayal, and – bloody hell! – _fear_ was like a sucker punch that held him back in the first place, freezing him to a spot for a long while after she was gone.

"Oh boy," Alaric breathed out stopping in the middle of the living room as scrubbing his hands down his face. He could understand confusion, but, God, she was scared! She was genuinely frightened. Of him, for heaven's sake! And no, being well aware that he totally deserved it didn't make it any easier, not even a little. It still hurt. Knowing that he did it to her, that he upset her… God only knew what she must have thought when she found all of this.

His gaze went to the folder that still lay on the floor where Jenna dropped it, and he flinched.

Well, what on earth would anyone think if they found a collection of creepy medieval-ish weapons and a stack of not-less-creepy newspaper clippings on unsolved murders, psycho-style, at their boyfriend's apartment in a drawer between the one with dinner candles and napkins and the other with the school notes and finals schedule?

Yeah, it was bad. It was really, really bad. And it definitely wasn't how Alaric imagined her finding out the truth.

And he was sick of it. He was sick of keeping secrets from her. He was damn sick of having to lie to her. Oh, okay, it wasn't like he was _lying_ to Jenna, not exactly. But half-truths and wiggling out of actually answering her questions were somehow making it so much worse. And he hated every single moment of it, feeling like a cold-hearted manipulative bastard.

So yeah, it was the end of it, he thought, overwhelmed by mixture of dread and relief at the same time. It had gone too far. Well, to be honest, it had gone too far quite a while ago, he added mentally. Right before getting out of control perhaps, but instead of coming out and talking to Jenna, he chose to cling to the hope that somehow someday it would all be over and left in the past, refusing to accept simple truth he knew all along – that it was not going to be over, ever. Once the Pandora box was open, there was no way to turn it back. The evil was out, inflicting chaos, and that was exactly what his life had been.

And now he was totally messed up. Jenna would probably hate him, like, _forever_. Okay, scratch probably. And, boy, could he blame her? But the thing was that selfishly, he wanted to have her all for himself. He didn't want to share her with the darkness, he didn't want that shadow hanging over them. He didn't want to ruin her life the way his was when he had discovered all of that. All he wanted was to protect her – from the vampires (which he failed more than once), and from having to live with it.

It was amazing how much she meant to him, Alaric thought wistfully. How much he loved having small talks with her, and fooling around, and family dinners at the Gilberts', and movies at his place with midnight pizza – when he was allowed to believe for a few hours that the whole vampire thing was nothing but a really bad joke that he could wave off like an annoying fly and just… live. Even if it wasn't fair. Even despite the guilt that filled him more and more often lately when he was lying awake at night listening to Jenna's soft breath and unable to put his mind to rest.

She didn't deserve being lied to, being kept in the dark when her family, people she loved and cared about, were involved. Problem was she deserved having her whole life turned upside down even less than that. Did he have any right to do either to her? Did he have any right _not_ tell her? And who the hell did then?

Alaric rubbed at his eyes, exhausted, noting for the first time how pressing the silence was around him. Not even the clock ticking on the wall was breaking it. For a moment it felt like someone simply muted all sounds in the world. And then he exhaled soundly, snapping out of that slumber. Not that it changed anything…

Once again his life was a total disaster, and one again Alaric had a very faint idea of how to fix it.

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><p>Once in her room, Jenna slumped heavily down onto her bed but then jumped up almost instantly, feeling like her head would explode any moment. She raked her fingers through her hair – a nervous gesture she barely every registered – as she started pacing around, physically incapable of staying still even for one goddamned second. As if moving around was somehow compensating for her inner turmoil.<p>

Oh God, what was it? Did it really happen or was she just losing her mind? The latter was getting more and more possible with each passing moment… Except that – why on earth would Alaric have all this stuff?

She sank down again, feeling weak in her knees, and dropped her head down on her clasped together hands, practically hyperventilating by this point.

Okay, she knew Alaric was totally crashed and devastated when Isobel disappeared, Jenna reminded herself. He had hard time accepting the fact that she was most likely not coming back and finding his ground again. She remembered his lost look and pain just beneath the surface a few months ago when they had just met that he was masking with light comments and easy smiles that never really touched his eyes until much, much later. Whatever happened to Isobel, it had an enormous impact on Alaric, leaving him scarred in a way that would never heal completely. They had never really talked about what exactly was going on when it had just happened but now that she gave it come thinking, Jenna found it quite natural for him keep the records, maybe even try to do something and search for her.

Yes, she could understand _that_. But the rest of it? All these… all these other articles about murders that were never solved and missing people that were never found, some so old they happened before either of them was born.

And all these stakes…

She bolted up again, breath hitching in her throat.

All these stakes, and wooden bullets, and these capsules with greenish liquid in it… What was it? Why would he have it? What was he doing with it?

Cold trickled down Jenna's spine, and she found herself shiver uncontrollably. What was about that stuff that he couldn't tell her? Should she have stayed and listened to him? Should she have noticed that something was off earlier? Something… like what? What exactly was she thinking about all of that?

Why did she freak out so much, to begin with? It was Alaric… Jenna started pacing again, restless. _Ric_… Was her reaction just about finding a stash of creepy stuff? Or was it also fueled by what John told her? No, of course not! But… but who would keep things like that? Who would _have_ things like that? Why was he so interested in all these killings, and missing people, and animal attacks, or whatever?

Her head was spinning and she couldn't think straight. Fear, confusion and betrayal mixing and boiling and bubbling inside of her, making Jenna feel sick to her stomach. It wouldn't be true. Whatever it was about, there had to be a simple and reasonable explanation, she told herself. There had to be. Bad thing was that she couldn't see it—

Jenna span around when she heard a soft rap of knuckles on the door a moment before it cracked open a little and Elena's head poked in, her expression cautious. She spotted Jenna standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her midsection. "Hey," the girl breathed out and stepped inside.

"Hey," Jenna called back and faltered, at a total loss of words. Period.

"How are you?" The awkward question hung in the air for a few moments. "Alaric called," Elena added if a little hesitantly.

Jenna stiffened by the second, her entire body going completely rigid as her mind suddenly blew up. "He did? What—what did her say?" She asked in a hollow voice.

"Nothing," Elena replied in a small concerned voice. "He was really worried about you and wanted to check if you're okay and all."

_Not quite_.

Jenna let out the breath she didn't even notice she was holding, and then shook her head as a faint rueful smile crossed her lips, as far from being humorless as it was possible. "It's nothing—it's fine," she said more to herself than to Elena. "We had an… argument." _Kind of. One-sided and weird_. Her fingers flexed on her shoulders clutching at the soft cotton fabric of Alaric's shirt. She averted her gaze, not really bothering to try and bring order to the chaos in her mind. Turned and looked at Elena again, her brows furrowing. "Why did you come back, anyway? I thought you were going to stay at the lake house for the whole weekend."

"Something came up," Elena responded nonchalantly, yet evasively but Jenna only gave her a distracted nod. "You want to talk about it? About what happened with Alaric?" Her smile was encouraging and reassuring as she reached out to touch Jenna's arm. "Girls' night, boy talk?"

Jenna let out a short, shaky laugh that we more nervous than humorous. "No… no, I'm fine," she swept her room with one quick glance. "I just have to give it some thinking, and…" she trailed off. Talk… talking sounded like a plan. Except that she couldn't quite out it into words, could she?

"It's going to be okay," Elena told her softly, and with confidence that Jenna had no trace of.

So, she chose not to respond.

* * *

><p>"Hey, it's me. Again," Alaric breathed out into the receiver, trying to keep his voice low enough not to bother that company by the pool table that was obviously having a much better time than he but yet audible for Jenna to hear the message. His eyes went to the glass of bourbon, half empty by now, and he thought that it was hardly the last one tonight. Wasn't the first either. "Jenna… please call me. I will explain everything. Just…. Let's talk. Please. It—it wasn't what you thought…" he faltered and let out a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to push away the growing headache. "Okay, I don't know what you thought. But I will tell you everything."<p>

Dead silence fell of the other end of the line when the voice mail message time ran out and for a moment he debated calling again and saying… what? What hadn't he said in the last twelve hours? She never picked up and never returned any of the messages, and he had no idea what to think about it. Neither did she answer the landline phone, which he hoped was his loophole. And it was the moment he started to feel truly desperate.

At night, he drove Jenna's car all the way to the Gilberts, seeing no other thing he could possibly do and feeling sick to his stomach as his mind tried to process what had happened, the image of her staring at him in utter terror before his mind's eye. A phone call and short conversation with Elena wasn't enough, he had to make sure she was okay, that nothing happened to her on the way home, seeing as to how upset she was when she had left.

He needed to talk to her, explain everything, tell her that… that he was sorry. God, he had no idea what exactly he was going to tell her, but he simply couldn't stay in his apartment where the walls seemed to close in on him. At some point he even thought he was going to suffocate if he didn't get out.

His first instinct was to dial her number, of course – which he did – but then his heart sank when he heard a familiar melody coming from the bedroom. Yeah, when you're running away from your psycho boyfriend and his crazy toys, you don't normally think about taking your cell phone with you, he cringed, and marched into the adjoining room only to find Jenna's Blackberry lying on the bedside table, its screen alight and his name flashing in the middle.

It was Stefan who opened the door when Alaric hopped out of the car and ran up the front porch half an hour, and he spotted Elena coming down the stairs the moment he stepped into the hallway. She paused for the barest of moments, too, her eyes flickering up to the second floor landing.

"She'd just fallen asleep," she said in a hushed voice before Ric even opened his mouth.

Relief, mixed with subtle disappointment, washed over him. The necessity to have _The Talk_ was looming over him on his ride to the Gilberts' like a black stormy cloud, and even though a part of him couldn't wait to have this weight off of his shoulders, Alaric still dreaded it. What if she thought he was nuts? What if kicked him out and slammed the door in his face? These, and a million of other thoughts flashed through his mind as he held the steering wheel in deadly grip. He even had some sort of a very lame speech prepared, what with him not being capable of thinking straight yet.

Having _The Talk_ postponed was… not what he had expected. And Alaric didn't know how he felt about it. It was like having the dentist's appointment put off when you were happy on the surface but still knew deep inside that it was impossible to wiggle out of it altogether, and a part of you wished you could just get it over with and forget about it for good. In fact, waiting was only making it worse, and it was exactly what Alaric found himself feeling all of a sudden. But she was fine, she was really here, and this very moment it was all that mattered.

"What did she say?" He asked in the same hushed voice Elena used, his eyes also darted upwards.

"That you had a fight." She frowned slightly. Exchanged uneasy looks with Stefan. "What did actually happen, Ric?"

Alaric let of an exasperated sigh and filled them in. "And then she just took off," he finished. "And I…" he trailed off, his shoulders sagging in defeat, and then looked at Stefan and Elena in turns before fixing his gaze on the girl. "I'm sorry, Elena, but I'm not going to lie to her anymore." He rubbed his eyes with exasperation. "I am not going to cook up some half-assed story to cover up what she saw. I am going to tell her everything—" Ric faltered. "That is if she is going to talk to me ever again."

Elena gave Stefan a quick glance, and Alaric didn't miss the anxiety coming from her. It wasn't just about him and Jenna, he told himself, it was so much bigger with all the people – and vampires – involved but for now he refused to think about it. One step at a time, he told himself.

At last, Elena nodded slowly. "Okay."

Staying there was tempting but in the end Alaric decided against it. He left Jenna's car there choosing to walk back home and pick his own car some other time, not really in a hurry to get into the confines of his apartment where everything reminded him of Jenna and in desperate need to try and clear his mind a little, hoping that maybe a stroll across town would do the job and help his thoughts settle a little. Not that he was capable of doing anything else anyway, and not even contemplating sleep. At this point the very idea sounded like a bad joke.

The air was crisp and the wind was chilly, and had no trouble getting through his hoodie and to his skin, but the fact barely registered. Absently, Alaric tucked his hands into the pockets without giving it so much as a second thought. It was other cold that bothered him. He was scared, his mind was a mess. For the first time in a very long while he had something to lose, and he didn't know what to do not to make it happen…

And then there he was, sitting at the Grill because somehow staying in the crowd felt a little better than sitting on couch and trying to mentally will his phone to ring, or chirp, or anything – which was exactly what he had been doing for hours, starting from six in the morning, and which was like a definition of pathetic. Well, so was drinking alone. He wanted to go to her, to camp out on the Gilberts' porch in case she wouldn't let him in, to do… anything! Instead, he ended up at the bar, dialing her number over and over again. Forcing his way to her felt wrong, regardless of how panicky and frantic this waiting was making him feel. If she needed time… well, it was just as much as he could give her now.

Yet, there was that small voice in his head telling him with evil satisfaction that maybe all the time in the world wouldn't be enough. Not when he was _that_ screwed.

* * *

><p>A small black phone let out a protesting shriek – okay, maybe it wasn't protesting but it definitely sounded that way – and a small red lamp blinked a few times. Jenna ignored it altogether and shoved another spoonful of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice-creams into her mouth, rolling it on her tongue for a few moments before swallowing the whole lump as a thought about having her brain freeze instantly crossed her mind for a fracture of a second, which she ignored as well.<p>

What was the memory limit of this thing anyway? She thought with a slight irritation giving her phone a quick glare. Another spoonful. God, it tasted like heaven.

"For how long are you going to keep dodging him?" Jeremy asked flopping down onto the couch beside her and snatching the spoon from Jenna's fingers.

"Hey!" She reached for it but he still managed to swallow his own share of ice-cream before she reclaimed it back. "Don't you have anything else to do, like, say, homework?"

"Don't answer the question with another question, Aunt Jenna," he chuckled grinning.

"The only real question is – what about your homework, Jer?" Jenna repeated, eyeing him suspiciously, and then swiftly moved away when he reached for the spoon again.

"Done." Jeremy flinched when her eyebrows arched. "I swear it's okay," he pressed on when the dubious look remained. "And come on, not a single parent-teacher conference in what, two months? I can appreciate the benefits of my aunt dating my teacher. Why didn't you go for the principle by the way?" Jenna aimed to elbow him in the ribs but Jeremy wiggled away, then craned his neck, choosing to wave the whole school talk off. "Half a bucket, and it's barely past six," he shook his head with mock disapproval.

"Shut up," Jenna scowled at him, an _It's-only-ice-cream-and-it's-not-like-I-am-drinking-Jack-Daniels-instead-of-coffee-in-the-morning_ look.

The phone chirped again, making them both turn.

"You know, this thing is going to explode at some point," Jeremy noted, although his voice was more sympathetic, in a _why-don't-you-answer-already-and-put-an-end-to-your-misery_ way, than teasing.

"That's the general idea," Jenna responded after a short consideration, her expression thoughtful. "I want to know how long will it take for it to happen. Call it a scientific experiment."

He shook his head. "You're being ridiculous."

_Tell me about it_, she flinched inwardly and sent another scoop of ice-cream into her mouth to avoid answering, as if saying that she had enough ice-cream to be whatever she wanted. Pouted for good measure and then pursed her lips stubbornly.

Jeremy sighed in defeat. "I was going to hang out at the Grill now. Wanna come over, have some food?" He offered. "Or we can order pizza?"

She shook her head. "No, I think I will stay here and sulk in my misery." Another chime, and she almost succeeded in pretended she didn't hear it at all. "And I have a good soundtrack to my life, too. And if I get bored, I will drown myself in ice-cream." So much for being a drama queen, huh?

"Yeah, there you go, Aunt Jenna." Jeremy patted her on the shoulder, his _It's-going-to-be-okay_ look sympathetic, then grabbed his bag and headed for the door. "Stay close to the surface, okay? See you later."

Once he was gone, Jenna dropped the spoon into the half-empty basket of melting Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough and put it onto the table by the couch before sagging deeper into the cushions. Jeremy was right. As much as she hated to admit it – hey, she was the adult in the house! – he _was_ right. Her gaze flickered towards her phone with that blinking red lamp indicated new messages. Stubbornly, she turned away and stared blankly out the window, not quite bothering to actually see the trees outside.

**[flashback]** In the morning, Jenna crawled downstairs feeling more dead than alive after barely a couple of hours of restless sleep, full of disturbing images that she couldn't remember once her mind turned on at the break of dawn and the memories of the night rushed back in, as clear and vivd as ever. Jenna groaned into the pillow, squeezing her eyes and covering her head with another one. It took her about three minutes to realize that sleep wasn't an option anymore, and also – that she was even more confused than before. Whoever told that the problems looked different in the light of the day had been terribly wrong. Of maybe they never discovered creepy collection of weird stuff at their boyfriends' place, she added mentally and wished there was a rewind button in life.

She stirred, realizing that she had passed out on top of the colorful bedspread (when and how had escaped her mind completely), still dressed in Alaric's shirt, and someone – must have been Elena, Jenna figured – covered her with the soft quilt at some point.

Shower and usual morning routine did nothing to make her feel any better, her mind still on fire. She turned the water almost burning hot and let it fill her bathroom with white steam, which bore sweet flowery scent of her shower gel. Jenna closed her eyes and lifted her face up to the running water, as if hoping it could wash away her worries, or at the very least dull the aching in her chest that grew stronger with each passing moment, an image of Alaric before her mind's eye as she fought to stop replaying the events of the previous night in her head, failing miserably.

Well, it wasn't entirely true. Things did look different now, but they were still off for the reason she couldn't quite figure out and it worried her more than she'd like to admit. Something was seriously wrong with the whole situation, call it sixth sense if you please. Although it was the very fact that Ric was keeping things from her – whatever they were – that hurt the most right now, something she desperately hoped would not happen between them.

The smell of fresh coffee was strong when Jenna stepped into the kitchen almost an hour later, still feeling like she'd been run over by the truck, back and forth, a few times, and not really even trying to keep processing chaotic thoughts buzzing in her head anymore. Her lips curved slightly in anticipation of bitter taste that was simply bound to make her feel better, but then the small half-smile dropped just as fast when she spotted John standing by the counter, filling his own mug. She skidded to a halt for a moment but then chose to ignore him altogether, irritated by the fact that he managed to plant all these seeds of doubt in her. And even more – by the fact that he was right after all, that something was indeed up with Alaric's wife's murder. And John knew it… when she didn't.

He paused, too, when he saw her, his eyebrows arching in surprise. Elena, who was waiting for her toasts to pop out of the toaster behind him, straightened up.

"Jenna," John started with a poor imitation of surprise, the one everyone had when they weren't surprised at all. He put the coffee pot down and reached for the sugar bowl. "I thought you said you were staying with Ric."

She scolded him, wishing for the umpteenth time that the glare could kill, or at the very least do some serious damage. "It's none of your business," she responded coldly, brushing past him to get her own mug.

No, she was not going to openly admit it and give him the satisfaction of knowing that something was off, and that it was partly his doing – even if it was obvious. She was so not up to dealing with John just yet – not after everything that had happened at night, not when she barely had any sleep and was feeling more like a living dead than… actually living… something; and definitely not when there was not enough caffeine in her system for Jenna to function properly. And the fact that there were just too many sharp objects around them wasn't really helping.

John's eyebrows arched even higher. "Is everything okay?" He asked. "First Elena comes back home ahead of time, then you." Which was more of a question than a statement.

"Leave her alone," Elena gave him a warning glance as she set her plate down onto to counter.

Grateful – to have someone keep her from actually stabbing John – Jenna reached for her favorite mug, all thoughts about Alaric she fought to keep at bay for the time being – for, say, _after_ coffee – breaking the barriers and flooding back in in huge waves, making everything inside of her tighten as her breath caught in her throat again.

"I'm just trying to make a conversation," John shrugged, taking a small sip of his coffee.

"Try less," Jenna told him dryly without so much as looking his way before going to grab the creamer from the fridge.

"Oh well, have a nice day then," he muttered, heading out and up the stairs.

When he was gone, Jenna sagged heavily against the counter and let out a long breath, then closed her eyes and counted to ten before opening them again… and meeting Elena's concerned glance.

"Do you think we can change him for a puppy?"

She made a funny face, letting out a small laugh as she joined Elena as the table, her cup of coffee clasped between her palms, choosing to joke it off – her natural defense reaction that kicked in automatically. That and tequila shots, but the latter seemed to hardly be appropriate this early in the morning. Well, being up this early was wrong by definition in Jenna's opinion, but she tried not to dwell on it.

She took a small sip, marveling, and it was then that she spotted something lying on the table by the fruit bowl. Something she didn't see at first. Something that was her phone. The very same one she knew for sure she had left at Alaric's a few hours ago because she definitely didn't have it with her when she'd returned. Or did she?

Jenna froze.

"I don't really think—" Elena started with a smile that faded momentarily when she saw Jenna's expression and followed her gaze. "Alaric thought you might need it," she explained softly. "Your phone and keys, and stuff."

Jenna's heart gave a leap and then started to thud dully against her ribcage. The images flashing before her mind's eye like a crazy carousel.

…Alaric shows up for dinner, and she looks over her shoulder making sure everyone is in the kitchen and then pulls him in, and they kiss in the hallway like two teenagers, hushing each other, thrilled by the possibility of being caught, if only because it isn't exactly a role-modelish grown-up behavior…

…She reaches into the box and takes a few wooden bullets, they are sharp and scratching gentle skin of her palms; she rolls them between her fingers as if hoping they would disappear…

…It is early Saturday morning and Jenna wakes up to the sun shining through the curtains, Alaric's arm draped possessively around her waist, his face buried in her hair and his deep even breath tickles the skin of her neck; he senses her subtle stir and tightens his grip, making Jenna's insides flutter as she smiles into her pillow…

…"_Because he's such a great guy, right?... Did he ever tell you what happened to his wife?... So they found her body?... Why don't you ask Ric? I'd love to hear his answer."_…

…They are at his place. "I didn't know you're such a good cook," Jenna teases him after he lets her taste creamy sauce for pasta. "Wait till you see dessert," he chuckles, amused, before leaning in to catch her lips with his, makes Jenna's head spin…

…"Young couple last seen two weeks ago at the campground was found in the woods last night. Investigation is in progress", "A mutilated body is discovered on I75, police is trying to identify the victim", "Five bodies discovered in the abandoned cabin. Cause of death – throat injures and severe blood loss", and the one that specifically caught Jenna's attention – "MISSING Isobel Fleming-Saltzman. If you have any information, please contact any of the following numbers…"…

…Alaric lets her into his apartment the previous night and flicks on the lights. Instantly, she catches the smells of coffee and his aftershave that linger in the air. "Thanks," Jenna makes a funny face, acknowledging that she is being ridiculous and immature, in a _Can't-help-it_ way, "I had to get out of there." Alaric smiles, "You can stay here all you want." His arms go around her waist from behind and she sags against his chest. His breath is hot against her skin when he whispers, "Just let me call John and thank him for being such an ass."…

…She runs her hand along the stake, feeling rough wooden surface with her fingertips and desperately searching for an explanation – _any_ explanation that would make sense; the air in the living room is cool but when she shivers, she knows it's because of the cold coming from the inside as her blood freezing in her veins, literary…

The more she was thinking about all of that, the less sense it was making.

Hesitantly, Jenna reached out and picked her phone up. Fifteen messages. "He was here?" She swallowed to clear her dry throat. "When?" Well, yeah, keeping her cool was an impossible task from the start.

"He stopped by last night, after you fell asleep." Elena told her. "He was really upset."

_Fifteen(!) messages_.

Jenna's finger hovered over the Unlock button but then she simply put her phone away and leaned against the back of the chair, eyes glued to the red light that flickered tauntingly. Coffee forgotten, she just stared at it for a while counting in her mind together with the clock ticking on the mantelpiece in the living-room – an antique piece her sister picked up at the garage sale when Jenna was fifteen, and that remained in the house ever since. Speak about quality.

Both she and Elena all but jumped when the phone beeped.

_Sixteen_.

"Don't!" She warned Elena before the latter made so much as a sound. "I have to think about it first."

"Fine."

**[flashback]**

Which happened about eleven hours ago – about two hours before Jenna called for the "reinforcements" and ended up in the company of the bucket of ice-cream. By now the number of voice messages increased to twenty five. But who was counting, right? She did stop counting missing calls after tenth or so, which was a good thing.

Well, it was a pathetic thing in the first place but she did stop, didn't she? And no, it didn't make her feel better. In fact, it was only making her feel worse, if only because she knew they were both miserable right now, and she was being a petulant child – at best.

The phone beeped.

Jenna sent another spoon of ice-cream into her mouth, not feeling any taste this time. Then she paused, listening carefully. The house was completely silent. She craned her neck to swipe as much of the first floor area and the staircase as she could for good measure, as if not wanting to be caught or something, and then reached stealthily for her phone, feeling like a kid who crept into the kitchen to steal a cookie from the jar. Even if it was her phone. And even if it was her boyfriend sending all these messages.

She bit her lower lip, and her finger quivered a little when she actually pressed Listen at last.

…Alaric picked up after half a ring, catching Jenna off guard.

"_Jenna_," he heard him breathe out into the receiver, relieved and disbelieving, and everything inside of her twisted at the sound of helplessness and desperation.

In the background, she could hear soft music as well as dull buzz of voices and occasional bursts of laughter.

"Hey," she all but responded in the same way but, her heart leaping at the sound of his voice, then cleared her throat and willed herself to stay cool. "I…" _received a ton of your messages and listened to some of them twice_. Her mind went blank though. "I thought you might want to have your car back," she blurted out. "Also, it kind of blocks the driveway." _And yeah, I was the one who parked it there but that's details, right?_ Her heart thudded so heavily that for a moment she thought she would most likely miss his response.

He didn't seem to hear her though. "_I'm sorry, Jenna. I am so sorry about what happened last night but… I can explain everything_," Alaric said in a hoarse hurried voice as if fearing that she would hang up on him or something. "_Can you please let me do it?_"

_No_.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>The Mystic Falls High School hallways were empty and cool, most of the students long gone or cooped up at the library. It was so quiet she could hear the rumble of voices coming from the cafeteria around the corner where the janitors worked on putting everything in place after the lunch and post-lunch hours.<p>

Alaric offered to meet there after classes, which she accepted, grateful on the inside due to her mind being totally blank. She did not feel comfortable with the idea of coming over to his place until they sorted everything out. Same was about her house. And Mystic Grill was a bit too crowded and, well, inappropriate in general for whatever they were going to discuss. Just like Ric, she preferred to keep it a little more private than that.

Jenna paused for a moment outside the history class to take a steadying breath. Her heart was thudding so fast in her chest that she was feeling dizzy. It was tempting to turn and scram before he even knew she was here… because she was a chicken. Because there was something odd to the situation that was making her antsy and worried for the reasons she couldn't put her finger on.

She longed to see him, to hear his voice. It had been two days but it felt so much longer when they were at odds. She longed to have this mess behind because…. because there was an explanation that was going to make things clear, right? It wasn't like she actually thought that Alaric slaughtered half of the county and piled the bodies at some abandoned warehouse just for the hell of it. And no, she didn't actually believe he had anything to do with his wife's disappearance or whatever, regardless of John's ridiculous implications. She just knew it, period.

Yet, there was something about learning the secrets that was normally leaving Jenna with a sinking feeling and a wish to stay in happy oblivion. And maybe sometime it was better than knowing something that would shatter your world and kill you on the inside, she added sourly in her mind.

Her hand hovered over the knob for a moment before she actually took a grip of it and turned it, pulling the door open. Alaric was standing by his desk, eyes cast down, and the familiar image made something loosen inside of her. He looked up to the sound when she stepped inside, and Jenna let a small fleeing smile cross her face, which was more of a reflex than anything. Well, that and the fact that she missed him terribly. And she hated thinking about all that stuff what was spinning in her head for the last forty hours. And that… and that his expression was somewhat pained, which made her heart plummet down.

The smile dropped, however, the moment Jenna saw Elena who stood leaning against the windowsill, her arms folded on her chest and her face grim.

"Elena?" She frowned slightly, looking between her niece and Alaric, confused. "What—what are you doing here? What's going on?"

Elena and Alaric exchanged uneasy looks that made Jenna's insides twist before Elena turned and spoke, "I think you should take a seat, Jenna." There was defeat and finality in her voice. "We need to talk."

**To be continued….**

* * *

><p>As always, all typos and stuff are mine :P having busy time at work now and my head is spinning :P Sorry ¯\_(ツ)_¯

And as always, reviews=LOVE ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note**: Thanks for your patience, guys! I know I suck at updates lately :P I wish I knew what exactly is keeping me that busy *ahem* Anyway, feel free to dig in! Hope you'll like it!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Was Santa real, too? Batman? Seven dwarves?

These were the questions that popped up in Jenna's mind because… because she was simply not capable of thinking straight. Of thinking, period. Everything that they were saying, she couldn't process it. She just couldn't because, really, of all the things she half-feared, half-expected to hear, the whole Dracula story was the last one.

Oh, okay, scratch that. The whole Dracula story wasn't on the list. She couldn't imagine hearing something like that. Never. Not for one goddamned moment could she see it coming, and definitely not with the expressions that both Elena and Alaric were wearing – solemn and somewhat defeated. At first, Jenna expected them to start laughing every moment, expected them to say it was all a joke, and she was a fool to buy it because… because how was it even possible for someone to talk about _vampires_ looking like that?

The hope faded after a while though, as horrible truth started to sink in. No, they were not high, or drunk, or joking, and the things – terrifying things that were way beyond Jenna's imagination and comprehension – that they were talking about were real. Except that… except that they couldn't be, could they? It was just wrong, Jenna thought somewhat distractedly, her mind going blank from the information overload. It was wrong for someone to speak about such stuff and actually _mean_ it. And expect her to believe in it, too.

Vaguely, she wondered if she'd be less surprised to find out that Alaric was an alien or that their lives were some Inception-type joke. Hardly, but… but how was she supposed to believe that there were things in the dark that she always thought could only existed in horror movies and folklore? How on earth could she accept unacceptable?

It lasted for quite a while already but Jenna had lost track of time at some point. All the questions she needed answers to – well, she didn't know how to ask them, how to start, how to make them slightly more rational. It was just too huge, too impossible to wrap her mind around.

It was rather eerie, however – and she could not possibly miss it – that with all this new information she'd acquired, some things did start making more sense to her. Like a puzzle that finally looked complete after the last pieces clicked together. Things that Jenna always thought were nothing but mysteries a small town of Mystic Falls needed to make life a little more exciting before they all lost their minds from boredom. Not that she liked what she was seeing, though.

Cold trickled down her spine as the realization settled in – she had known this stuff all along but preferred to dismiss it, while all this time… all this time—

Jenna snapped her head up when it downed on her that none of them had been speaking for a while, and found Elena – who was still standing by the window – looking expectedly at her, her brows drawn together with concern. Alaric remained by his desk, and she could feel his eyes on her although she was also quite certain he would most likely avoid direct eye contact if she turned. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell since she was the one avoiding direct eye contact in the first place, choosing to stare at the wall before her while she absorbed the information. Yeah, if only it did the trick, Jenna thought ruefully.

"Jenna…" Elena started cautiously, making Jenna feel like she was a patient in some mental institution because it was exactly the voice she imagined being used a lot in places like that.

Not that she gave it much thought, what with her mind practically exploding and her heart racing so fast that she was feeling dizzy and sick. All the facts, everything, started to finally kick in and settle, making her wonder absently how soon would denial come and how long she'd be able to hold onto it for her own mental good. And whether _forever_ was even an option. Obviously, they expected some reaction from her, but she had no idea what to offer.

"You okay?" Elena asked after a little while.

_Okay?_ Seriously? God, she was anything _but_ okay! And how came it wasn't some _World of the Worlds_ style prank, again? Tell me it's not true, tell me it's not true, she begged in her mind, knowing it was not going to happen.

Jenna drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled slowly, forcing herself to unclasp her hands that she held together in deadly white-knuckled grip. Yeah, sure, fine. She was totally fine, how could it be otherwise, right? Just like any other resident of the room with padded walls.

"I—it's just…" Jenna started and faltered, raking her brain for the most expressive word.

Crazy? Insane? Impossible? All of the above combined and multiplied by thousand? Nope, even that wasn't quite covering it, not even a little. And that was the problem. And the fact that her head was probably going to explode any moment like a balloon with too much air wasn't exactly helping the matters. Yes, she desperately wanted to wake up. As in – _now_!

"Look, I know it's a lot to take it—"

"A lot?" Jenna echoed. She let out a short shaky laugh that sounded wrong and horrible even to her own ears. Sagged against the back of the chair she'd been sitting on all this time and shook her head. "Parents telling you they are getting a divorce is a lot. Your boyfriend dumping you for your best friend is a lot." A pause. "There are _vampires_ out there," she gestured towards the door, not quite sure if she meant just the school – oh god, did she really mean the _school_? – or the rest of the world in general. In her mind, she repeated the word again, which did nothing to make it sound less weird. Jenna didn't like the taste of it. "It's not _a lot_, Elena, it's—" Was there a word to describe it, anyway? "Why?" She fixed her eyes on her niece's. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Elena' shoulders sagged. There hardly was a quick and simple answer to that.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "I am so sorry, Jenna."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna saw Alaric shift from foot to foot. And it was then that it truly hit her, like a wave that covered her and swept her off of her feet. All this hurt, and betrayal, and the whole unfairness of the situation. Like a sucker punch that left her totally breathless, and she was like a fish thrown out of the water and onto the rocky shore.

It was ironic, really, how only a few hours ago she thought that the worst thing Alaric could have told her was that his wife was in a rehab or something but he was telling everyone that she was dead because it was less embarrassing and more convenient. Or that she still was in the picture, maybe a couple of states away, but he preferred some lies and a little guilt trip for his flings, which was a really good bait and Jenna was a living, breathing proof of it. Or that he killed his wife with the frying pan because she failed to cook lasagna properly – she really should stop watching the _I-know-what-you-did-last-summer_ type movies on Saturday nights perhaps, Jenna decided – and then buried her in the back yard, sold the house and decided to start a new life in Mystic Falls.

On some level she was happy he didn't confirm either of the above, and there was that fleeting moment of relief when she actually felt the weight lifted off of her shoulders, which lasted for, oh, half a second. Problem was, what he did tell her was much, much worse. And the thought made her chest tighten and her breath hitch as she looked away from Elena and focused on the tree right outside the window, fighting to stop… feeling, thinking.

"Elena, could you please wait for me in the car?" Jenna asked after what seemed like forever, her voice weirdly flat and even. Hey, maybe it was denial at last? God knew, she could use some.

Elena hesitated for a moment, unsure, before picking up her bag and retreating silently, not daring to argue or object. Jenna could almost feel the girl's uneasiness with her skin, but she didn't so much as move, only registered the sound of the closing door in the back of her mind when Elena had finally left.

"You know, we used to tell these stories to each other at the campfire when we were kids," she said in the same hollow voice that didn't seem to belong to her at all. "The backyard type with sleeping bags and marshmallows. Most of time they were leaving us laughing hysterically though. Who would have thought they could turn out being real after all?"

"Jenna—" Alaric started, and god help her but her heart leaped.

She didn't turn though, choosing to keep staring sightlessly outside. "How long did you know?" They covered the basics but she needed some details now, preferably before her shield had cracked.

He let out a weary sigh before answering. "I came here, to Mystic falls, searching for the vampire that had killed my wife—for the vampire that I _thought_ had killed my wife," Alaric corrected himself, and Jenna swallowed, fighting to stay detached from raw emotions that were thick and heavy in his voice, his own attempts to keep them at bay obviously failing. "Which also was before I knew she dumped me without so much as goodbye to become one of them," Ric finished on a rueful chuckle, humorless and bitted.

Everything inside of Jenna twisted at the sound of pain he tried to mask with a very lame nonchalance. God, she couldn't… she just couldn't deal with it yet. Not now. Not at the same time with… everything else. She turned slowly, meeting his eyes at last, for the first time since the conversation began perhaps – consciously at least.

"Why didn't you tell me, Ric?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly, maybe because of that thick lump that formed in her throat, choking her.

"Jenna, I—" His arms that he kept folded on the chest fell to hang loosely along his sides.

She rose from behind the school desk but remained standing right there, her own arms going up to wrap around her shoulders – a defensive gesture she couldn't help. "Were you even planning on telling me?" She pressed on. "Or you found sharing something like that irrelevant?"

She might have as well slapped him in the face, Jenna thought, his expression was tortured now. She refused to think about it though. Not when everything inside of her hurt so much she wanted to scream. Not when she wanted to curl into a ball and stop breathing until it was all gone.

Thing was, however, that it was even harder to look at him standing right before her, so close yet totally out of reach, knowing that he wasn't Alaric she thought she knew, and _not_ think of all the time they had spent together. Of what it felt like when he was playing absently with her hair, of the heat of his body against hers and the taste of him when he was kissing her. And of how much she wanted him to cross the distance between them right now, close his arms around her body and hold her tight until this endless nightmare was over. Of how much she needed it.

But all these images, and memories, and every single thought spinning in her head – they were dying and fading like a piece of paper swallowed by the flames until there was nothing left but ashes.

"I wanted to tell you, Jenna," he said at last. "God, you have no idea how many times I wanted to come clean about all of that."

She let out another bark of a laugh that cut them both like a knife. "And you didn't do it why, exactly?" Sarcasm was think and rather poisonous, but Jenna couldn't help it, and didn't really want to for that matter. "And don't tell me you were waiting for the right moment because, see, finding out that Elena's biological mother – aka your not so dead wife – was a vampire was just the one, for starters."

Alaric sucked in the air as if bracing himself. But then again, maybe he was.

"I hoped I wouldn't have to," he said.

Jenna blinked. "You hoped someone else would do the dirty job?"

"What?" He gaped, caught by surprise. "No!" Oh boy, this was bad, and getting worse by the second. He raked his hair with his hand. "I—I hoped there would be no need to." Impulsively, he took a small step forward but stilled when Jenna stiffened visibly, her eyes wary and confused, reminding him of what she looked like that night a few days ago. "Knowing these things… it's not a blessing, Jenna." His voice dropped a little, sounding almost pleading. "Being in this mix… it ruins your life, it destroys everything you ever knew or believed in. It is always there and you can't switch it off, or undo it, or change it back." Ric paused. "How could I want this for someone I—I care about?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat trying oh so hard not to hear raw emotion in his words, and for a long moment they simply stood there staring at each other.

"It wasn't your call, Ric," she said after a while. "Not when Jeremy and Elena were concerned. I _had_ to know about it. It's me who is supposed to be taking care of them," she added bitterly. "All this time they… they were constantly in danger, and I—" _pretty much blew my job_. "You had no right to make this decision for me."

"I know,' Alaric said quietly, actually wishing she'd beat him up with the baseball bat or something. Anything was better than that accusation and hurt in her eyes. "I'm—I'm sorry, Jenna. I—" he choked. "I wish I would."

She shook her head, disbelieving. "How do you even keep things like that?" Her own voice was ringing with suppressed pain and anger now. "How do you keep things like that from someone you _care_ about?" She finished with venomous irony, hating herself for wanting to hurt him back after he had hurt her so much. It was wrong, and she knew it, but it was tearing her on the inside too much to hold it back.

_Leave_.

She had to get out of there, away from him, before she started to suffocate. Or—or worse.

Alaric stepped in her way when she moved, though. "Jenna, I—I was wrong and I have no words to make it better now, and I know that you're mad, and you're right about it." He held her gaze, his voice low but steady. They were standing close now, closer than they'd been in days, and his gaze was searching her face. "But you can't blame me for wanting to keep you out of it. I should have told you from the start, but—but I would still hate it like I hate it now. I don't want this for you. Never did, never will."

"Well, you should have stayed away from me altogether then," she retorted coolly, not quite sure if she had actually meant it but unable to stop herself from speaking.

He froze. And it didn't go past her that he wasn't really surprised by her words. Moreover, Jenna suspected he'd been waiting for them to come, what with this _I-know-that-too_ look, which made her feel so much worse.

"Don't say that."

"I trusted you, Ric." No, she was not going to cry. She as not going to—Crap! It just hurt too damn much. "I trusted you to be honest with me. You don't keep things like that, no matter what the reason is. You just… you don't!"

She blinked a few times trying to keep the tears that were burning her eyes from falling, which was basically an inhuman task.

"Jenna, please—"

"And you know what the worst thing is?" She didn't let him finish, all the feeling bubbling inside of her finally finding their way out. "I am not even disappointed in you. Not really. Guess I should have felt that something was off from the start because that thing between you and me? It was just too good, too perfect to be real. I should have known better than that, shouldn't I? So now I am just disappointed in myself for being so stupid." Her fingers flexed on her upper arms as if to check that she was still in one piece. "I want you to stay away from me, Ric." There was more firmness in her words than Jenna actually felt. "And from Jeremy and Elena, too. I don't want you anywhere near either of us from now on."

On that, she grabbed her bag and headed out, choosing the longest route between the desks and around the class to avoid approaching Alaric any closer than necessary, and keeping her eyes pointedly straight ahead – as if letting the door out of her sight meant getting lost… or changing her mind, or something else entirely ridiculous.

"Jenna," he called after her when she had reached for the knob, and she stopped at the sound of helpless despair in his voice, against better judgment and all.

"Yeah, right." She turned, then fished something out of her pocket and threw it to him. He caught the set of keys effortlessly, and their eyes locked again. "Your car is at the student's parking lot. The one for the staff was packed."

And then she was gone, not giving him a chance to say what he was actually going to.

Alaric stood there completely motionless, listening to the fading sound of her heels on the corridor floor, barely breathing, and only let his shoulders sag and his frame lose almost painful tension when there was nothing left but silence. He dropped the keys to the desk then, and scrubbed his hands down his face. She might have as wall killed him, and it wouldn't have felt worse.

Outside, Elena was waiting for Jenna on the passenger's seat of her car. Jenna crossed the front school yard hurriedly, slid inside and started the engine, doing her best to ignore her shaking hands and her pretty much blurred vision. Her mind had gone completely blank by this moment – a defense mechanism to keep her sanity intact, otherwise… otherwise she'd just go mental, she figured.

They drove in silence, which Jenna was grateful for. Not that there was anything she wanted to hear now anyway. Well, maybe aside from – _Ha, you really bought it?_ followed by contagious laughter. But somehow she didn't see it coming. Anything else could wait for a century or two.

Once inside the house, Jenna slung her bag over the staircase pole and lowered herself heavily onto the stairs, her knees weak and not entirely stable. She ran her fingers through her hair, fighting to maintain her breathing steady and only then allowed herself to look up at Elena, who was still hovering by the door.

"You should have told me, Elena." Her voice was shaking as the feeling of hurt and betrayal escalated to a whole new _Too-much-to-bear_ level.

Elena opened her mouth and then closed it again, her lower lip trembling. "Jenna, I—" she swallowed. "I didn't want you to be involved with any of this. I'm sorry." There were tears glistening in her eyes now. "I'm so sorry."

"That's what Ric said, too." And had she been capable of it, she'd probably laugh. "So, you both wanted me to sit in the corner and not be an inconvenience or what? Is that what it means?"

"God, no," Elena pushed her hair out of her face, sounding desperate. "We—we only wanted to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Jenna echoed as though the concept was totally beyond her understanding. As though it lost the meaning somewhere along the way. Slowly, she rose up to her feet again. "But it's _my_ job to keep you safe, Elena. To take care of you and Jeremy. _I_ should be doing it, not you." She felt defeated. "I was compelled by the vampire to stab myself. How is that keeping me safe?"

She didn't mean to sound so bitter and accusing but the fear that crushed down upon her when she woke up at the hospital bed a few months ago with an extra hole in her body that she totally could live without – fear about Jeremy and Elena staying all alone with no one to be there for them if anything actually happened to her – was rushing back in, and she couldn't help it. The idea of making things better for someone by lying to them didn't make any sense to her.

Elena bit her lower lip. "I—we thought we could handle it, we thought—" she trailed off.

Jenna only shook her head in a universal _Don't-bother_ way, then let out a long breath thinking that there was not enough tequila in the world to make this whole situation look any better. There was not enough _anything_ to make it look better.

"So, all this trust talk was one-sided then? I thought we were friends, Elena." She sounded tired now, world-weary even. "I thought I could trust you to tell me the truth."

"You could—can." Elena let her bag drop to the floor by her feet, her fingers still clutching the strap. "But it was… I didn't—"

"Don't. I don't want to hear any more lies. You wanted to make a good thing, I get it," she said then, "And I appreciate the sentiment, almost. But you're so, so grounded." Paused and pointed her finger at Jeremy who emerged from the kitchen with a glass of juice in his hand and was walking their way. "Both of you. Until you're fifty."

Jeremy frowned instantly, confused, his eyes darting between his sister and aunt as he struggles to figure out what the whole drama was about. "What did _I_ do?"

But Jenna was already stomping upstairs.

* * *

><p>At some point in the middle of the night, Jenna gave up. After hours of twisting and turning and listening to all the sounds of the darkness that suddenly acquired an entirely new creepiness to them, she kicked away her covers and climbed out of the bed. It didn't look like sleep was an option in any case. She was drained and totally exhausted both mentally and physically, but her mind just wouldn't shut off and let her rest. Like after having too much coffee, only worse.<p>

Jenna padded barefoot across the room, listening intensely but everyone seemed to be asleep. The house stayed completely quiet. She picked up a framed photo from the dresser and went back. Sunk down onto the floor by the bed, put the photo beside her, wrapped her arms around her knees and peered at the image. Grayson, Miranda, Jeremy and Elena were beaming happily into the camera, their smiles easy and open. Jenna studied their faces in pale moonlight streaming through the window, her chest tightening as the memories of family get-togethers and all the fun they used to have flooded her mind. This photo was taken a couple of months before the car crash, she recalled, and they looked so… good and happy.

She reached out to touch the glass. The picture seemed surreal now. How was it even possible that the life Jenna had always known, so normal and ordinary, even boring at times, was so easily interrupted by something she couldn't have even imagined? She swallowed. It appeared to be nothing but illusion, a bunch of lies everyone she loved was feeding her ever since she was born. Dealing with the vampires and stuff was one thing, even though she'd probably need some time to figure out the "how". Knowing that there probably wasn't a single person that wasn't lying to her face was something entirely different. How was she supposed to handle _that_?

"Why didn't you tell me, Miranda?" She mouthed soundlessly, locking her gaze on her sister's smiling face. "A little head start would be nice in that case."

She remembered the day a few years ago when Miranda called to her rented on-campus apartment to ask about the whole guardianship thing, saying that "everyone was doing it, just to be safe". Sure, of course – was Jenna's immediate reply, and she didn't even think twice about it, wiggling into her skinny jeans with her phone pressed to her ear with the shoulder, her mind pretty much on the class she was terribly late for.

Not that she'd ever answer otherwise. For one thing, she was well aware that Grayson and Miranda didn't have much of a choice, with their parents gone and no other close family in sight, or at least in close proximity. In her mind, Jenna instantly crossed John's name off the list. Their personal issues aside, she didn't peg him for a parental person.

Then again, she loved Jeremy and Elena like crazy, and knew that they loved her, too, and wasn't it what mattered the most? And of course, the main reason why she'd said yes was that she thought it was just a formality. None of them could have ever imagined that one day everything would go wrong and Jenna would actually have the parenthood thrown in her face, without manual to go with it.

"You are not planning on faking the airplane crash and running away to Tahiti now, are you?" She asked Miranda when they'd left the attorney's office a few days later.

"Careful, Jen," Miranda laughed. "You have just signed the papers," she pointed out. "I'd stop giving me the ideas if I were you."

Grayson started to cough, which was as good as he could do to mask his laughter, and Jenna mock-punched her sister in the shoulder…

Yeah, who would have thought?

And now – now she was feeling that everything was falling apart, and she was helpless to stop it. Yes, she was well aware that she wasn't the best of parental figures. In between dealing with Jeremy's issues without much success, trying not to be a bad guy for them because it obviously was the last thing they needed and attempting to somehow sort out her own life, she knew she sucked more times than she'd like to acknowledge. Yet, recently she started to believe that they were finally getting somewhere, that maybe she wasn't the worst possible choice after all – because, god help her, but it was exactly what she'd been thinking during the first four months when everything she'd been doing had just as much effect as banging her head on the wall – and maybe her sister was not going to haunt her ass for ruining her kids' lives.

So yeah, finding out that she did, in fact, fail Miranda in every possible way was like a sucker punch that left her lost, and defeated, and—

Jenna sucked in a sharp breath.

It was almost impossible to believe that only this morning her biggest concern was her miserable love life, her thesis deadlines and lack of time – and, well, proper self-organization. And it all seemed like the end of the world. And then she suddenly found out that her high-school buddy – her _dead_ high-school buddy – was a werewolf, with fur, and fangs, and stuff. And her high-school jerk of a crush – dead, _again_, see the pattern – was a vampire, just as her niece's best friend and boyfriend, and – _drum roll!_ – her biological mother, too! Although Jenna tried not to go there just yet, choosing to stack the whole Isobel concept into the darkest corner of her mind for now. And a girl her nephew was not so conspicuously crushing on was a _witch_. The thought was inevitable making brooms and cauldrons pop up before Jenna's mind eye, because – _really?_

She desperately tried to see herself in the picture – and couldn't.

It wasn't what they kept all of that shocked her the most, Jenna realized if a little belatedly. It was the fact that none of them trusted her to handle it, none of them thought she was good enough to know it that totally threw her off. Finding out that her entire life was just a façade was one thing. Seeing that there was no one she could turn to now – now _that_ was world-crashing.

And then there was Alaric.

She bit her lip so hard that she could feel the taste of blood in her mouth.

How could he do it to her? How could he betray her like that? She felt so foolish now, so ridiculous. Was there anything about them that was real at all? Or was it just a part of some scheme of his and he was, in fact, laughing at her behind her back? Not that she wanted to know it, Jenna added sourly in her mind. Just in case the answer wasn't reassuring. It definitely wasn't something she'd want to have to deal with.

Why would he do it?

She snickered humorlessly. Story of her life, wasn't it? The only decent guy she'd dated in recent years—hell, the only guy she'd ever fallen _this_ hard for turned out being the biggest liar of them all.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to think about what it felt like to be with him, around him, how safe she was with the circle of his arms around her – and was swept away by the memories all the same. The memories of slow kisses, and lazy breakfasts at his place, and the way he was looking at her sometimes that was taking her breath away, and laughing so hard that her stomach hurt, and all these hours they had spent talking about everything and nothing.

She hated him so much for all of this. And she hated herself even more for wanting him to be there with her now, and hold her, and tell her that everything was going to be fine, and make all her fears go away. Because she was confused and scared, and she needed him. Because she was a fool and there was nothing she could actually do about it.

A soft buzz of her phone made Jenna jerk her head up. For a long moment, she just stared at it before reaching out and picking it up from the nightstand. A small blinking light indicated arrival of a new voice mail message.

Jenna hesitated for a moment, and then hit _Open_.

The sound of familiar voice made her breath catch up in her throat, and her fingers flexed on a small black device, clutching it so tight that her knuckles had gone white.

Alaric.

"_Jenna… I, um… I just wanted to make sure you're okay,_" he paused. Her heart skipped a beat. "_I know you probably hate me now, and you have every right to. I was an idiot. Still am. And I know that I screwed up majorly. I should have told you. I—I wish I did, and there is no excuse for not doing it, but I was a chicken and a jerk, and I didn't want—_" A sharp intake of breath and a soft sigh. "_I didn't want to lose you to all this craziness. I wanted you to have a normal life. I didn't want to shatter your world like that. And I—I thought I was doing the right thing… Apparently, I wasn't._" His voice dropped, becoming somewhat thick and hoarse. "_I'm sorry, for everything. I swear to God, Jenna, if I could turn back the time and undo it all, I'd make it right. Just—just please know that I never meant to hurt you._" Another pause. "_And that I love you,_" which came out in a whoosh of breath.

Okay, that was it. Now she hated him for real.

The phone slipped out of Jenna's hand and dropped to the soft carpet with dull thud. For a moment, she just stared ahead of herself, gasping painfully for air but unable to take a proper breath as if a giant hand squeezed her lungs and held them. Her heart plummeted down and was rolling somewhere in her stomach. And then she buried her face in her knees, her arms wrapped around them so tight she thought she might crash her own ribs, and finally let herself cry in earnest, for herself, for him, for everything that was gone. She was scared. She felt helpless. And she was all alone.

_~ Daylight dies _

_Blackout the sky _

_Does anyone care? _

_Is anybody there? _

_Take this life, _

_Empty inside, _

_I'm already dead _

_I'll rise to fall again…_

"_Give Me A Sign" by Breaking Benjamin~_

* * *

><p>Alaric stayed at the Grill until the closure. And an extra hour after that while they were arranging tables and chairs and taking out the garbage, seeing as to how he was barely an inconvenience in his near-comatose state.<p>

The ice in a glass of bourbon he had ordered hours ago had long melted and the drink itself was hardly touched at all. His initial plan to drink until the whole story was out of his mind, or at least until he could see it in a different light, totally failed. Every single sip he took was choking him, so he gave up eventually and chose to simply sit there and stare at the rows of bottles on the shelves on the other side of the counter. It wasn't making much sense per se but he didn't want to go home yet. He didn't want to be alone, one on one with his thoughts and memories, in a place where everything would remind him of Jenna.

Here's to losing the only thing in his damned life that was worth fighting for!

And didn't he know it was going to end like this? Didn't he know he was digging his own grave? Jenna was right about this – you don't keep things like that from someone you… love. And then, she was right again – he should have stayed away from her from the start. With the life baggage like his, it wasn't fair to get involved with her. He should have run away in the opposite direction the moment they met because he knew for sure right there and then that she was trouble. That once he was in, there was no way back.

But he was tired. Tired of running all the time – from everyone, from himself. He was tired of merely existing when he desperately wanted to live. And then there was Jenna, like a sunlight on a rainy day, and he just couldn't resist because for the first time in years he was feeling alive again, and it wasn't something he wanted to walk away from. _She_ wasn't someone he could walk away from. Not when all of the darkness he'd been living in was finally going away when he'd already lost his hope. Was it really that much to ask for?

She was better off without him though, Alaric thought. What could he possibly offer her? Not that it mattered now, of course. Jenna would probably never want to talk to him again. Not after he had breached her trust like that – and there were no words to say how much he hated himself for putting her through it. The look she had on her face when they were talking in his class a few hours ago was something that he knew would haunt him forever.

And now—now he had no idea what to do. He felt lost and empty. What was the purpose of it all, anyway? His whole mission, the reason he came to Mystic Falls, fell apart a long time ago. And the only person that was making his life worthwhile – the only person he'd sworn he'd never hurt – was gone.

God, he didn't even know it was possible to love someone so much until Jenna danced into his life like she was meant to be there from the start. Knowing that she was no longer a part of it made him feel dead on the inside, and all the darkness he'd been running from was slowly creeping back now, and there was nothing Alaric could do about it, or wanted to for that matter. It was all his fault. And the best thing he could do to make it up to Jenna was stay away from her for her own good.

"Um… Mr. Saltzman?" The voice gave Alaric a start, jerking him out of his despair. Upon turning, he found Matt Donovan standing beside him, his blue apron gone and replaced by the leather jacket. Obviously, he was on the way out. "I'm sorry but we're closing the place now."

Yeah, that was the problem of the small town like Mystic Falls – there were hardly any places there that stayed open past midnight, especially on Thursday. Yet, there was nothing Ric could do about it.

"Oh, right." He threw a couple of bills onto the counter and then slid down from the tall bar stool, struggling to muster some sort of a smile – an instinct more than anything. "Thanks for letting me hang out here." He patted Matt on the shoulder.

"Yeah, no problem," Matt echoed, watching his retreat. "See you in a few."

Outside, Alaric let the door shut close behind his back as he was momentarily enveloped in thick silence. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket to save them from the gusts of chilly wind and shivered a little. The spring was near and the air was getting warmer each day but the nights were still crispy as if using every chance to hold on to winter and cold.

On a sigh, he groped for the car keys and headed for the parking lot across the street. His car was one of only two left there, and the Ford parked next to his Chevy probably belonged to one of the Grill barmen or other staff members, Alaric figured. He hit the unlock button and the headlights blinked to greet him. The town was quiet and long asleep, and with the lack of options, he had no other choice but to go home and hope that maybe in ten years he would feel better and less disgusted with himself.

He pulled the door open and paused for a moment, puzzled, when he caught light flowery scent of Jenna's perfume before recalling if a little belatedly that she was the one to drive his car to school to return it to him in the first place.

Alaric shook his head. He was pathetic. And calling Jenna twenty times only to hear her "Hi, it's Jenna! I am probably busy right now but if you leave a message, I'll get back to you" was the first and foremost proof of it. Absently, he wondered how the whole leaving her alone plan was working with him leaving her a message in the end but then he decided to simply add it to his growing list of mistakes.

"Alaric Saltzman?" Someone called him from behind.

"Yes?"

Alaric started to turn, surprised. Must be someone from the Grill, he thought, maybe he'd forgotten something there, or—

He didn't get to finish his speculations, however, because the next thing he knew was that something hard and heavy hit him in the stomach, and he collapsed down to his knees, gasping for air.

**To be continued…**

* * *

><p>As always, typos are all mine, and yeah, I'm blind when it comes to them sometimes. I apologize :P<p>

And – reviews and comments are love, so please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note**: Guys, thank you so much for the feedback! You have no idea how much it means to me :) It's such a huge inspiration! You're the best!

Ahem, anyway, my boss is on vacation, so I've spent a couple of days working on my fic instead of… well, working [insert guilty face here]. Hope it was worth it. Also, I feel horrible about what KW said at SDCC and now I am sort of more tham eager to prove how terribly wrong he is :S

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Alaric hit his knees hard and scraped gentle skin of his palms on the asphalt when he landed. Not that it mattered when he had other things to worry about. Like, say, _what the hell?_ Arm wrapped instinctively around his midsection, he winced, and for a very long moment everything about him was focused solely on trying to take a proper breath somehow. His lungs didn't seem to want to cooperate with the plan though, what with them seeming to have shrunk to a size of peanuts, and he ended up gasping without much result as the stars danced before his eyes.

If anything, it was embarrassing, and boy, it hurt! In fact, the "who" and the "why" stopped being a big deal for a while. Speak of the surprise factor.

Slowly, the reality started getting back to him, however, and even though Alaric knew the moment of suffocation had barely lasted for a few seconds, it felt much longer than that. But then a huge fist suddenly opened, releasing his insides from its deadly grip, and he sucked in a hungry breath, ignoring another wave of pain that it caused. God, what did they hit him with? A baseball bat? A battering ram?

His gaze focused gradually, and the first thing that he saw was a pair of black worn boots with somewhat scarred and scratched fronts and thick heavy soles. The boots did look like their primary purpose was to give good kicks and break bones, Ric thought without fondness, if only because they definitely made an impression of having a lot of action in this area.

His eyes moved to dark-grey jeans and then up the legs that appeared to belong to a bulky man in black sweater and leather jacket, his balding hair cut short and the gaze of his dark eyes heavy and piercing. And no, nothing about him explained what the hell it was all about. Even if he ever met his attacker before, Alaric couldn't recall the occasion. Thus, for all he knew, the whole punching thing seemed to be rather uncalled for.

For a long moment he just stared at the man hovering above him, lips pursed and gaze promising a trip to hell and back. Maybe it was about his wallet or watch? In that case, however, saying something would help perhaps, Alaric figured. He squinted, fighting to see more in the dim light of a remote streetlamp that was barely reaching them.

"What the hell?" He croaked at last, his voice hoarse, and the sound of it echoed painfully in his gut, making him grimace.

It didn't stop him from noticing that the man's fists flexed, which was hardly a good sign in any situation per se. No physical violence followed though, much to his surprise, even though he was almost expecting these boots to want to become friends with his stomach. Instead, the man gave Alaric a scornful once-over and asked through gritted teeth, "Where is she?"

Alaric blinked. Rolled the words in his head again. He straightened up slowly, using his car for support and trying to ignore the fact that his insides detested any idea of movement, plus he could probably do without internal bleeding. But he chose to worry about it later.

"Who?"

"You wife!" The man spat.

"My… _what_?" Oh, for heaven's sake! Couldn't he just take his stuff and leave already? Suddenly, the idea of being robbed seemed to be rather appealing, compared to… options.

"You wife," the man repeated slowly, as if talking to someone mentally retarded. "Isobel." He paused. "Rings a bell?"

Alaric let out a short bark of a laugh and shook his head. The situation was as ridiculous as it could possibly get. "Sorry to disappoint you, man, but you're out of date." Yeah, trust Isobel to keep messing with his life even now. "My wife had gone missing two years ago. Go talk to the police."

The man grabbed him by the collar of the jacket and shoved him hard against the passenger's door, probably leaving a visible dent. He was rather strong for his height, and it started to slowly down on Ric why. "Well, I know she was visiting this hole of a godforsaken place not so long time ago." He added for emphasis.

"Well, and _I_ know that Isobel and I have nothing to do with each other for a very long time already." Alaric retorted, giving himself points for not collapsing from the impact again, and hoping that his spinal cold was not damaged in any nonrestorable way.

He didn't know if he was more curious or outraged at the moment, these two feelings mixing up and pulling him apart. He was not going back to it, he was not going to let Isobel into his life one way or the other. She had already made it clear she didn't want him around either, and it took him quite a while to get used to the idea, both in terms of time and emotional pain when he thought he'd rather die if only because it hurt just too much to bear it with dignity. First – when she'd vanished from their apartment before he could so much as blink. And then – when he found out that it was the general idea from the start.

When it occurred to him that the woman he loved, the woman he thought he knew, deliberately put him through hell that he didn't think he'd be able to ever get out of – until he finally got to the point when he realized that he had no wish to ever deal with her again. And now her minions or whoever were sneaking around and beating him up? _Seriously?_

"She took something that didn't belong to her," the man ignored him completely and went on, focused on task at hand and obviously not giving a damn about Alaric's thoughts. "And she'd better give it back." And then he grinned, that cool venomous smile that was basically aimed at demonstrating two unnaturally long fangs. Alaric stiffened when his guess was confirmed and his own smirk died on his lips. Aw, come on! "You have a week."

"I have a—" he began but the man suddenly turned on his heels and disappeared in the dark, letting Alaric sag against the side on his car. "Oh, damn it." He muttered in a whoosh of a breath. "A little head start would be nice," called into the blackness of a parking lot but his only response was silence. He looked up and peered at the pitch black sky. Speak of the days that you don't think can get any worse, and then they do just that. "Classy, Isobel," he murmured. "Real classy. Thank you."

And it was then that he noticed something in his hand. Something he knew he didn't have when he'd left the bar a few minutes ago. Curious and confused, he stared blankly at the rather crumpled piece of plain white paper for a few moments before unfolding and smoothing it with his fingers. His brows drew together. Obviously, it was the man that shoved it into his palm before taking off, there was no other explanation of that that came ho time. It did not, however, make it clear what this little _rendez vouz_ was about. Neither did it explain what the symbol drawn in simple black marker meant. Alaric looked up and around again. But everything was still.

* * *

><p><em>On the way back to Mystic Falls from Duke, Alaric doesn't care about breaking traffic rules or the speed of his car that is at least twice higher than permitted as he drives <em>_down the narrow winding interstate. Damon and Elena are silent in their seats, too lost in their own thoughts, neither of them up for a small talk, which Alaric is grateful for. _

_His own mind is reeling as panic settles sickeningly in the pit of his stomach. What if he is too late? What if he had screwed up too bad to fix it?_

_He had to go, he reminds himself. He had to go back to a place that had been a great part of his life for a very long time and see how much he was still holding on to it. Things had to be settled first. If he didn't, he tells himself (or more like desperately tries to persuade himself), he couldn't move forward. Any thing with Jenna would be wrong if he still carried that baggage of his past. He has no right to do that to her. _

_But then at some point everything just clicks together, all the pieces fall in their places, and even though he misses the precise moment entirely, he suddenly knows what is the right thing to do, and he prays like crazy that she is up for second chances and that he gets one. _

_By the Gilbert house, he hops out of the car first, leaving Damon and Elena behind to deal with their issues without him and strolls towards the front door. Jenna is in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway for a moment, his knees somewhat weak and unsteady by the second and his resolve fading as his heart plummets down. He hadn't done it in a very long time and he fears that he might do something wrong now and screw it up even more. _

_She hears his footsteps and turns around, her face confused and a little cautious. As if expecting for bad news or something similarly unpleasant, he thinks absently. Now or never, Alaric tells himself as he crosses the distance between them before she has a chance to ask anything, or before he chickens out. He pulls her close, his lips crash hers, and it feels like a gulp of cold water in a desert. _

"_I should have done it this morning," he says when they pull apart to get some air. _

_And a moment later Jenna smiles. And something loosens inside of him, and Alaric can't help drawing her close again, eager to marvel in the feeling. _

"_I'm glad you're here now," Jenna murmurs against his lips. _

_She is still smiling, he can feel it with his mouth as she kisses him back. And she tastes so good – of strawberries and wine, which makes his head spin. And Alaric kicks and curses himself mentally for holding back and waiting for so long, and relief fills him, like _Thank God_, like _finally_. _

_They take their time as if trying to catch up with all these months of dancing around each other. He rakes his hands through her hair, relishing the silkiness between his fingers, frames her face, his insides flutter. Jenna's hands slide down his chest and she encircles his waist with her arms, and Alaric can't remember being happier. _

"_Hey, Jenna, do you think we still have—"_

_The voice is like a bucket of cold water, and they jump away from each other, although not fast enough. _

_Jeremy cuts off and stops in his tracks looking from one to the other, and their slightly guilty and flushed faces tell him everything. He blinks once, twice, before is lips start stretching into a grin which he attempts to cover with a cough. _

"_Never mind," he mutters and retreats hurriedly. _

_They listen to him stomp up the stairs and wait for the door on the second floor to slam soundly before Jenna turns to bury her face into Alaric's chest, squinting her eyes. _

"_Oh god," she breathes out and her shoulders tremble with suppressed nervous giggles that perfectly reflect his own feelings. Busted indeed! _

_Alaric puts his arms__ around her and whispers, "Well, I guess we successfully skipped the official announcement." _

_She looks up for a moment, and then bursts out laughing, and it can't be more perfect_.

* * *

><p>There was a moment in Alaric's life when he promised himself he would never fall that hard for anyone again, that he would never get attached to another human being the way he was attached to Isobel. Ever since he'd met her first, he strongly believed that they were like one soul in two bodies that were meant to end up together from the start because that was how such things worked. He didn't think about it for a second. He simply knew.<p>

And then the truth downed on him a few months after she had gone missing. And it was the moment when he finally realized that despite his search for the truth, despite everything, she was not coming back. Ever.

It hit him hard. Hell, it pretty much felt like he had lost her all over again. All that pain, and grief, and memories he somehow managed to keep at bay when his mind was focused on something else came rushing back in, knocking him off of his feet and swallowing him completely. It nearly made him burn all his research papers and everything he'd managed to collect over the months because he wanted it out of his life. Everything, every single bit of the knowledge he'd gained, if only because on some primitive level it seemed that getting rid of it physically would somehow make him forget about this whole nightmare altogether. Because… what was the point, anyway? He could spend a year, or two, or his entire life digging like crazy, but it would never change anything, and the feeling left him empty, helpless and useless.

He cooled down eventually though, and even continued his research, almost successfully pretending that it was nothing but another project to keep his mind occupied. What was the harm in that? Not that he'd ever imagined doing a scientific work on the vampires of course, but hell, weirder things happened, no?

Besides, he was getting rather good at pretending. It was easier to shut everything off and just… go on somehow, breath after breath, step after step. It wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway. Although there was one thing that he'd learned from this situation – apparently, despite common notion, having and losing was not really worth it after all. Not having at all was dull and rather sad, too. But it sure as hell didn't hurt as much as having his heart ripped out and stomped over, and he didn't want to go for it again. He was not going to have whatever what was left of his heart grinded into dust. And somehow, it was not a bad plan to go on with, something to focus on not to lose his mind.

And, well, he did manage to keep his promise to himself – and rather successfully, too! He didn't fall _that_ hard for anyone ever since. Not a big deal, right? Problem was, he fell for Jenna harder than _that_. Much harder than he could have imagined possible. And even though he wasn't breaking his promise, technically, he was still in a very big trouble. Had been ever since that night he'd met her months ago on his first day as a teacher in Mystic Falls High. It was still a mystery why he even came up to say hi to Jeremy Gilbert back then, like an impulse he could neither explain, nor resist.

The glint in her blue eyes and a soft curve of her lips were compelling, that was undeniable, but it wasn't the point. There was something else about Jenna, something that wasn't physical, something he couldn't quite put his finger on that drew him in and held him tight. Something that made a shell around his heart crack and the ice covering him on the inside melt before he even knew. Something that terrified him so much more than any vampire ever did.

So, here's to being an idiot!

And now he was sitting at the same bar months later, sipping at the bourbon that didn't really have any taste at this point and wishing there really was a way to burn someone to ashes with the power of his mind. Or whatever there was that could work on a centuries-old vampire. All the while deliberately looking the other way like he didn't care. Not that he did, of course—

Yeah, who was he fooling, again?

Alaric scolded himself and wondered with self-annoyance why wouldn't he just leave instead of fuming and glaring angry daggers at the third booth by the wall every now and then while this black cloud over his head grew, promising to turn into a full-blown storm that, with any luck, would flood Mystic Grill and give him some evil satisfaction. Flood the Grill and wash away that stupid, arrogant, self-centered—

"She'll come around, you know," Damon told him, sliding onto the tall stool next to Ric and waved at the barman _What he has_, getting a curt nod in return.

Okay, whatever! He came here first, didn't he?

"What?" Alaric called back distractedly, turning to look at the vampire.

"Jenna." Damon's drink arrived and he took a small sip before studying the ice-cubes in the glass as though they had answers to all his questions. "She'll come around eventually." He beamed then and flashed a crooked smile which Alaric took as expression of sympathy although he chose not to put much into it. Whatever Damon was saying, it was always wearing a thin coat of mockery. And he wasn't in the mood.

"Yeah, right," he sneered darkly and let a huge gulp of bourbon burn its way down his throat. "I hate him," he added through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the spot right before him, which at this point was a dusty bottle of green absinth.

Brows cocked, Damon turned and scanned the bar until his gaze stopped on the booth that was now experiencing the influence of the worst vibes ever perhaps, mainly because it happened to be occupied by Jenna and Elijah.

Glasses of iced tea on the Mystic Grill coasters before them, they were involved into an animated conversation that somehow required a lot of smiling, at least on Jenna's part. From his spot Damon could only see the back of Elijah's head, his hair perfect as ever, but in any case it was rather impossible to imagine that he was scowling or wearing a stone face, which could answer his question about Alaric's "bright" mood better than any words in the world.

He turned to Ric. "She's doing it on purpose, you know? To make you jealous." Which sounded like it was coming from an expert in the area.

Alaric gave him a quick look out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, well, I don't think she cares enough to bother."

Damon considered his words for a moment, and then nodded with confidence. "You're probably right, Ric. It's been what, three days? Five? She must be long over you by now. Hell, I'd bet my last dollar she doesn't even remember your name at this point. Sorry, buddy," he patted Alaric on the back, which _was_ mockery this time, "but _Mr. Smith_ and his hairdo are not something you can compete with."

Alaric chose to ignore his words, seeing as to how they were hitting too close to home. Instead, he huffed and shook his head. "What could they possibly be talking about?" He asked under his breath, not addressing anyone in particular.

"Oh, you know, the weather. The books. Maybe hairstyles. Or maybe she's telling him what a dick you are." Damon looked over his shoulder again. "If I am right, though, she's doing it with the wrong face. Unless they discuss killing you in your sleep."

Curious beyond himself, Alaric looked back as well, which did little good to his doom and gloom.

Jenna was leaning forward now, propped on her forearms, smiling and laughing occasionally as she talked, and god help him, but he could catch the sweet sound of it even across the bar. He never considered himself a jealous type, Alaric thought. Territorial – yes, and wasn't it, like, natural? But never the _white-hot-rage-stay-away-from-her-or-I-will-rip-your-heart-out-and-stick-it-in-your-throat_ kind that wasn't really easy to keep under control at the moment. Not that he ever had a reason to feel like that before.

Seeing Jenna now, however, being so carefree and radiant around someone else felt like being stabbed in the heart, and then the knife started to turn. Also, it was making him want to go and strangle that _someone else_, slowly and painfully, and preferably in some torturous way. Although he wasn't entirely sure what exactly he was jealous of the most – the fact that Elijah could try and charm her somehow or of him being able to be with her when he, Alaric, was doomed to sulk darkly in the corner instead. A little bit of both, he decided in the end.

"I _really_ hate him," he muttered, returning his gaze to his glass again. "And his hair."

"Why don't you just, I don't know, go there and talk to her?" Damon rolled his eyes.

"Because she made it pretty clear she doesn't want me around."

And to grant her wish he even made avoiding Jenna at any cost a mission of his life, doing his best not to cross paths with her as best he could. Which hardly lasted long enough. Boy, he was pathetic.

"And since when do you do what you're told?" Damon wondered and shook his head.

Which, okay, hit the nail right on the head. Ric wasn't the type to be bossed around. Normally. In 99% of cases. Right now, however, he simply didn't want to make it worse. The look in Jenna's eyes the last time they'd talked, the way her voice sounded – it all haunted him, like a curse that was meant to torture him for what he did. Not that it was uncalled for, of course. And he had no right to push. She wanted him out? Fine, he could do that. If it meant she would feel better– he was all up for it. He had already hurt her enough, and the last thing Alaric needed was to do something else and screw it up even more, in case _even more_ was a possibility.

And of course there was that another problem he was supposed to deal with somehow. That midnight incident that left his insides aching until he stuffed himself with half a bottle of Aspirin. He meant to talk to Damon about it, ask if the vampire had any idea who it was or what they were so interested in, seeing as to how Damon could know things he, apparently, didn't. God only knew what Isobel shared with him one time or the other.

He'd given it some thinking, too. Quite a lot of thinking to be honest since it was basically the only thing capable of keeping his mind off of Jenna. He wasn't as anxious as he was curious at this point. And pissed off, too. If anything, it cost him a vampire punch in the gut and a major headache of a problem with a deadline. Isobel, wherever she was, was just too generous to keep the fun to herself. It totally looked like she had to pull him in just for the hell of it as well, in that charming manner of hers.

So, he'd meant to talk to Damon about it and about the symbol…

Instead, he asked, "You think that dagger could actually work?" And there was some evil hope in his voice.

Damon grinned. "So, now you want to check it out, huh? For someone as peaceful as you normally are, you sure can be bloodthirsty sometimes, Ric."

"Just an idea." Alaric shrugged. And he was actually up for giving it a try, personally. To have some twisted satisfaction, maybe. No sucker punch in his life hurt as much as seeing Jenna with other man did, whatever the context was, and his first and dominating instinct was to wipe said man off of the face of the Earth, end of story.

"Just don't start swinging here," Damon drawled. "They'll make you pay for the broken furniture."

"I don't trust him, okay? I don't want him around Jenna until we know what his game is." _I don't want him around Jenna, period_. But he didn't say that.

"Well, she doesn't seem to share the sentiment." Damon straightened up then. "Oh, look, that's my girlfriend." And when Alaric looked back, he also saw Andie maneuver her way between the tables towards the booths area. "Guess I should go and say hi." The vampire rose, finished his drink in one gulp and patted Ric on the back with such enthusiasm that the latter nearly fell off of his stool. "It would be rude if I don't."

* * *

><p>Jenna knew he was there. Of course she did, how could she not? She practically sensed him the moment they stepped into Mystic Grill as if he was a radio-wave she was attuned to. It didn't take her more than half a second to spot him at the bar, and her heart stopped for a moment as a jolt of panic shot through her body. She averted her gaze when he turned as if sensing her too, and kept it pointedly away ever since, fighting a wish to storm out and… away, anywhere.<p>

Which would be ridiculous perhaps, but at least she'd most likely stop suffocating. Instead, she let Elijah lead her to the booths and named lemon iced tea as her drink of choice when he asked what she would like to have. The self-kicking (because she should have known better than coming to the Grill, of all places) would come later. Now, she had an agenda to follow.

She felt his gaze though, almost as real as a touch brushing along her every now and then, and it was making her skin tingle and itch. She kept the conversation light and going, and gave herself ten points for not stumbling once even though she had no idea what they were talking about most of the time. Well, it must have been making sense after all, or so she supposed since Elijah's face didn't show anything but genuine interest. But then again, he might have very well been too polite to express puzzlement openly.

So, Jenna carried on with it, her mask intact and perfect. She'd been doing it too much lately to make it almost automatic, all the while trying to ignore the coiling of her insides that was getting almost routine. _Yes, Elena, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be? Jer, you want pizza for dinner or something Chinese? Sorry, guys, been stuck at the library today but I promise you a proper homemade meal this weekend, three courses_. As if nothing happened. There was no way for her to make it through, to cope with it otherwise. It was hard, and it was tough, but she couldn't let anyone else see it. The moment she faced sympathy and concern, and all the soothing words she knew they were more than willing to offer, she would lose it. And she couldn't. She just couldn't.

Night was her time though. Time to fall apart and let the tears flood. Time to cry herself to sleep when she didn't have to be strong for anyone or pretend that nothing changed. Time to be truly scared – of the things lurking in the dark, of not being strong enough to handle them, of failing. Just to close the door, bury her face in a pillow to muffle the sound and let it go until there was nothing left, until she was drained enough physically and emotionally to fall into the dark abyss of dreamless sleep only to be yanked out of it a few short hours later, broken and exhausted as if she hadn't slept at all. And then everything was starting again.

Alaric stayed back these days. She hadn't heard from him, or of him for that matter, ever since that late night text on the day when everything came out, and a part of her was glad he respected her wish for him to back off. Whatever they were going to do next and wherever they were going to end up eventually, she needed time and space and some proper thinking before even considering going anywhere. She needed the information to settle.

It was another part that bothered Jenna though. A much bigger part that wanted to slap him for listening to her. A part that was endlessly annoyed with him complying so easily and just staying in the corner, or, say, sitting at the bar instead of… yep, _here_ was the problem. What exactly was she expecting him to do? She knew she'd be even more irritated if he'd just walk up to them right now, if he'd try to see her or talk to her these past few days. She'd take it as a violation of her privacy and personal space or whatever. Problem was, the fact that he didn't attempt to approach her in any way hurt her even more for some reason. Did he really care so little after all? Jenna hated thinking about it, hated the feeling of complete and utter dread that flooded her whenever her mind wandered in that direction. Sadly, she couldn't help it. Was it an intention to give her room, or an excuse to stay away because it was what he really wanted?

Oh, okay, she was officially a mess. And thinking about all of that was a result of lack of proper sleep and excessive consumption of caffeine, and nothing else. And feeling all that it didn't at all mean she was even considering forgiving him for what he'd done, she reminded herself. God, she wasn't even sure she could, ever. How do you even get over something like that? How do you get over such kind of betrayal? If anything, Jenna wasn't quite sure there was a chance for her to merely _start_ trusting him again. Wasn't sure she'd take the risk even if she could somehow. Hell, two days ago she'd sworn blind she wasn't going to even talk to him ever again, leave alone contemplate anything else.

Yet, here she was, glad and relieved despite everything to actually see him regardless of how wrong it was, and she truly despised herself for it. For that feeling of… of not being alone somehow. A few days ago he had basically destroyed her, but she was still missing him. And it was simply beyond her control.

Jenna didn't see Damon joining Ric. She did, however, look up when Andie showed up and stopped at their table, and for the barest of moments her gaze flickered towards the bar, a reflex more than anything. And it was exactly when Alaric turned, too, and their eyes met. And just like that, her resolve started to dissolve. It lasted for half a second at most before she promptly looked away but this briefest of eye contacts in the history of eye contacts made everything inside of Jenna ache. And all the hurt, all the darkness she'd been living in and fighting with was coming back in, alongside with this desperate wish to hit him hard and hug him at the same time. And let him make the things better somehow simply because she knew he was the only one to make it all go away.

She sighed subtly. Maybe she wasn't as solid as she thought she was after all.

It hurt even more now, Jenna had to admit. This whole situation. Now that she'd given it some thinking, her pain transformed from piercing and intense to dull, constant and probably similarly intense, and it was always there, no matter how much she fought to stay distracted and detached.

She tried to keep herself busy, every moment when she was awake – and that was a lot. Working on her thesis (or at the very least making an impression of it), or helping Carol Lockwood, or merely thinking about how to keep everyone she loved alive. It was driving her insane at times, making her head spin. But it was better that way. Anything was better than replaying her last conversation with Alaric over and over in her head. All the words that had been said, or should have been but weren't. His face. His voice. The way he was looking at her. She couldn't help it. The moment she let the guards down, the moment she set her mind free – it was all there, bright and clear. And it wasn't what she could handle…

"Jenna?"

Andie's voice startled her and she snapped her head up to find three pairs of eyes watching her expectedly. Wait a moment, when did Damon arrive, again? She blinked and wondered how long she had been out, too preoccupied with her own little drama to pay attention to anything else. Long enough for them to notice, obviously.

"I'm sorry," she offered them a small guilty smile. "What was the question?"

"The reception," Andie repeated patiently. "You're coming, aren't you?"

_No way in hell_, was her first reaction, and god only knew how much it took not to blurt it out, then add a bunch of half-ass lame excuses and run away before someone roped her into it, literary. Crap, she totally forgot about it. Or more like – about the fact that it was today, a snooze-fest of a Founder's party. Again. Wasn't it supposed to be on Friday?... Um, right, it WAS Friday.

Jenna felt a mother of all headaches forming behind her eyes. She promised to be there, she recalled. She promised to help, didn't she? Well, technically she was all but forced into volunteering but it wasn't like Carol cornered her and threatened her with the scissors although she might have as well because when it actually happened Jenna's only choice was to either drop dead right there and then or to offer her assistance, all polite and smiling, with the words that would probably result in Mrs. Lockwood's heart attack had she said them out loud rolling in her head.

It mattered to her sister though, Jenna reminded herself, and it was the only thing that was making this whole community involvement thing bearable. It was important for Miranda, really important. Not that Jenna herself didn't care, of course. She did, kind of. Just not with passion. For her sister it was about believing in building a perfect society where people cared for and were looking after each other and stuff. As for Jenna, she respected those who were truly devoted and she knew it was the right thing to do, and now that Miranda and Grayson were gone she simply didn't have the heart to send the whole Council right to hell where it probably belonged for being so infinitely boring and to drive happily into the sunset, meaning – in the direction of a couch with a box of pizza in her hands.

Besides, she was still officially helping Elijah with his "research", and the fact that he probably knew more about the town of Mystic Fall than a few generations of Founding families together didn't change anything – it wasn't like she could drop the bomb on all of them, which meant she had to go on with playing her part.

Well, he wasn't the worst of the company, Jenna had to admit. He was nice and charming and courteous, a proper gentleman coated with a thick layer of chocolate and with the cherry on top, the kind of man Jenna thought were long extinct. Then again, maybe they were. He was smart and interesting to talk to, and even though it was a little unnerving to look at him now and know that he might very well be older than the civilization itself, she somehow didn't quite mind playing along. Minus the part that involved social appearances. Keeping the façade and wearing the mask was getting rather tiring lately, especially in the crowds.

It hit her than that Alaric was supposed to go with her, and her stomach twisted.

…They were camped out at his place on a dark rainy afternoon a few weeks earlier, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the couch with a bowl of popcorn on a coffee table before them and two cups of hot chocolate on coasters. The room was almost dark because of the low heavy clouds outside, and the rain intensified beating hard on the roofs and pavements. The lights were dimmed and the TV was buzzing quietly as they talked in low voices, barely paying attention to the movie that was running more for a background sound than anything else.

Alaric grimaced when she mentioned the party first, in exactly same way she flinched inwardly when she'd found out about it herself. "Do you have to go?" He asked with sympathy.

"Well, at this point I'm not so sure even a tornado could be an excuse not to," she admitted, still contemplating the possibilities. "Mayor Lockwood would simply move it to some bunker."

He laughed, making Jenna note that she really, really liked the sound of it. "Can I do something to ease your pain?"

"Well, I have a few massacre scenarios replying in my head," she started hopefully after considering the question and took a small sip of her hot chocolate.

Ric let out a half-chuckle, half-snort. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger brushing lightly against Jenna's cheek, then caught her gaze when she looked up. "Would you like me to go with you?" He offered.

"You hate this kind of social gatherings," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but… Won't it be fun to be replaying these massacre scenarios together?"

Her smile softened, eased, widened. She put her mug back to the coffee table, then leaned forward and grazed her lips against his. "That could do the trick, I think," she murmured, and somehow whole idea stopped looking so torturous…

And now it wasn't an option anymore. Yet, it didn't look like she could come up with something and wiggle out of the whole business altogether, unless "I broke up with my boyfriend, let me drown in my misery" became a legit reason to spend the rest of her life eating ice-cream in her room dressed in favorite pajama.

"Sure," Jenna said easily and nodded with enthusiasm that she knew was too fake for anyone to buy it. For a moment, she thought that one of Elijah's brows cocked curiously but in the end she decided she was most likely putting too much into nothing. He was, after all, probably just as much interested in this event as she was. Still, it felt like the right thing to add, "Can't wait."

* * *

><p>Alaric saw her instantly, the moment Jenna stepped into the brightly lit room with Elena by her side and Jeremy hovering behind them and looking just as uncomfortable and annoyed as Alaric felt. In a short long-sleeved black cocktail dress with high neck and open back and with her hair falling down her shoulders in thick waves, she looked dashing to say the least, and he swallowed hard when his throat had suddenly gone dry and sandy. He took a gulp of his scotch or whatever he had in his glass and swallowed it without feeling the taste of it or the way it burned his mouth.<p>

"You look pathetic," Damon said, coming up to stand beside him.

"I feel pathetic," Ric assured him, taking another sip of his drink. "And miserable."

_And I have no words to say how much I want to turn around and get the hell out of here_, he added in his mind, automatically scanning the room for possible escape routes and yet knowing it was hardly anything but wishful thinking. He wouldn't do it, wouldn't leave, no matter how hard he'd want to strangle the next person that would approach him with the small talk.

It was a bad idea to come. He shouldn't have been there… Yet, it was Carol Lockwood who called him after all when she'd run into him at the Salvatore mansion a few days ago. Because he was "involved" with the town's activities lately, she said, making him all but choke on the snicker when he thought about how much "involved" he was, exactly.

And now he was using this invitation that for some reason sounded more like an order when coming from Mayor Lockwood to see Jenna, which probably meant he might have as well opened the dictionary and found his photo near the definition of desperate. But then again, having no idea when he was going to see her again was driving him insane.

So, that was the reason why he was feeling out of place in his own body that was packed in a neat suit and dark-blue shirt, although there hardly was anything in the world that could have forced him to wear a tie. That was the reason he stood in the room full of other people in suits, chatting, and laughing, and drinking champagne as he fought the wish to hide behind the nearest ginormous flower pot with some bushy palm thingy in it instead of sipping a drink at the Grill to the sounds of soft music coming from the juke box and a familiar buzz of voices around. He would probably feel just as miserable there, Alaric thought. Maybe even more miserable than now because Jenna surely wouldn't be there, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about his face actually cracking if he flashed another smile.

Geez, he wasn't even sure she would show up. They hadn't talked about this event after she'd mentioned it once, and he would never blame her if she decided to bail in the end. After all, it was her wish from the start. And the thought was almost weirdly comforting, he realized all of a sudden. If she did skip it after all, it meant that at least one of them was having a decent night. Not to mention that they whole stalking thing wasn't exactly working with the "give her space and time" plan. So, maybe it would actually be good if she didn't come. As for him, he'd have a couple of drinks and scram to hide in the safe confines of his apartment where no would be questioning his dark mood…

Hell, nothing was holding him there, he thought with frustration… which happened half a second before he spotted her, and it was only then that he realized how much he was actually waiting, wanting to see her – even if it was like that, forty feet across the room and praying that she wouldn't see him back.

He watched her talk to someone he didn't know, soft smile on her lips, and his heart was thudding dully against his ribs.

Okay, now it was time to scram, Alaric decided endlessly regretting his stupid decision. Before she spotted him too, or something. He wanted to see her? Well, he saw her! There was need to push the luck. He had already hurt her enough, might as well stay away from her now, seeing as to how it was _all_ her could do, period. There was a way not to cross paths with her even in such a small town as Mystic Falls if he tried real hard, right? Why did he even come here, again?

Truth be told, there was a moment when Alaric contemplated leaving. Just pack his stuff – not that there was much to pack, quit the job and drive away without so much as a look back, and maybe at the very least try to get this endless nightmare of the past few years out of his mind.

No, he was not delusional and knew it was not possible to actually forget about something like that for good. But maybe if he tried hard enough, if he pretended long enough, the details would blur at the edges, like an old fading photo, and eventually he'd start to question the reality of all of that. His business was done in Mystic Falls after all. There was nothing to hold him here, technically. The reason he moved there in the first place was to find out what happened to Isobel. That mission was accomplished, archived and stored away. And hell if he wanted to spend the rest of his life running with the stakes and vervain darts. In fact, he'd give a lot to never see a stake in his life ever again.

But he couldn't do it. The moment the thought crossed his mind, he knew he wouldn't leave. He would never go away, knowing that Jenna wasn't entirely safe, and there wasn't such thing in this town per se. And, pathetic as it was, he wouldn't stop hoping either, he just couldn't accept the fact that it was the end of them. Probably never would, Alaric mused. How on earth could he? Besides, there was also that moment when he promised to make sure Jenna would get the best, whatever it was. Only he didn't realize back then that he was promising it to himself more than to Logan Fell. And he was more than determined to keep it. Even if _the best_ wasn't him, he would at the very least make sure no one would ever hurt her again.

It still sucked to wear a suit though.

Alaric sighed, and then his lips pursed into a thin line when he spotted John Gilbert standing by the couch and talking to someone Alaric had been introduced to as well but whose name he didn't bother to memorize, what with it being so "important". Yeah, he should have probably figured John would show up as well. He huffed. Saying that this whole gathering was a pure torture was a huge understatement.

His gaze shifted back to Jenna chatting with someone a good hundred feet away from him, and deep uncontrolled longing filled him at the sight. She was laughing, but he knew she was probably enjoying the whole thing just as much as he. And maybe, just maybe, it was one of the reasons he hadn't left yet, too. Maybe they were sort of uniting in their solitary suffering, all the while wanting to be somewhere else. Except that his _somewhere else_ would be with her, regardless of the details.

"Alaric!"

The voice made him all but jump out of his skin, and he whirled around to find beaming – literary, what with all the jewelry – Carol Lockwood standing next to him, all proper hostess that would most likely manage to find him even under the sofa. That would probably get him from under the earth if he didn't come, he guessed. Panicking slightly, he chanced a quick sidelong glance and realized that Damon escaped by then. Traitor.

"Mayor Lockwood," he called back, hoping his smile was more of a smile and less of a scowl. Too much effort started to backfire.

"Oh, Carol, please. I'm glad you made it here." She swept the reception hall with a satisfied glance, and Alaric wondered if she was also feeling that this mask of pleasantry had frozen to her face as well. But then again, it could have been there for too long for Mrs. Lockwood to know the difference.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he responded rather sincerely as he spotted Elijah entering the room through the door across from them.

He needed a drink. Badly. And a new hiding place. And as soon as Mrs. Lockwood – _Carol, please_ – was gone, Alaric looked around the room in search for… something. Okay, so there was the bar, in the next parlor. All he needed to do was to circle this one sticking close to the walls to avoid further interrogations, or any other contact for that matter. Eyes on the glass doors, he started to move towards the make-shift bar counter placed near the exit to the terrace for the night. Right now, a couple of people were standing there waiting for two barmen to arrange their drinks. Just across the room….

He stepped over the threshold… and all but ran into Jenna.

* * *

><p>"You sure you want to do it?" Elena asked when they were making their way up the wide marble steps and towards the front door leading to the Founder's Hall, not able to help hoping that they'd just turn around and leave and go to grab some pizza instead. And before they actually entered the building, it was still a possibility. She even almost supported Jeremy when he offered to wait the whole thing out sitting in the car. The idea of spending a few following hours being someone else wasn't quite appealing at the moment.<p>

"No, but it almost like asking to be unborn," Jenna called back with the enthusiasm that equaled Elena's. "You can't fight or undo it." _Sadly_.

"In and out," Jeremy reminded them from behind. For the fifth time. With the panic in his voice this time, and it sounded like he was a step away from bolting away.

"Exactly," Elena nodded as they finally stepped inside.

"Oh, look, the party is already getting better." Jenna snickered, reaching to pick up a flute of champagne from the tray when a waiter coursed right before them heading into the depths of the place. "This is gonna be fun," she muttered, observing her surroundings.

And it was. In a _give-me-something-to-poke-myself-in-the-eye_ way.

It was just a little too much of an act than she could muster right now. Too much light. Too much sparkling. Too much smiling and _I'm good, thank you's_. It was too fake to be comfortable at the moment. Too shallow to enjoy it. Too meaningless to pay proper attention. Too overwhelming to keep her mind straight and focused. And too lonely to bear it on her own.

Getting utterly wasted wasn't a part of the plan, but boy, was it tempting! Especially with the time dragging slower than the snail. Much to her dismay, it wasn't much of an option. The only option she did have, however, was…

Jenna didn't get to finish the thought though because one moment she was heading towards the bathroom to hide there for a little while and finally take a proper breath, and maybe also check if her facial muscles were still intact because she wasn't feeling them anymore, and then all of a sudden Alaric was right before her, literary, and her mind had gone blank.

They stopped and gawked at each other, confused and awkward. And maybe her jaw did drop in a very undignified way, too. She didn't care, if only because for a very short moment the sounds all around them faded and the house disappeared, and there were only the two of them in the whole world.

She knew he had come, saw him lurking in the back of the room trying to look invisible or maybe blend with the wall paper as best he could. And god help her, but it made her night. Jenna hated herself for the very idea but it was comforting to know he was there as well, the only person who wasn't old and filthy rich and who probably felt about the whole event the very same way she did. Not that she was going to tell him that, of course, but… but it was good to have him close. It was good to know she wasn't all alone in that misery even if she wasn't with him exactly, either. Even if she had no right to feel this way in his regards anymore.

"Jenna," Alaric said for lack of better ideas. He cleared his throat and swallowed uneasily. There was another door. Why didn't he use it? Why was she even here? She was… last time he checked she was… somewhere else, for heaven's sake!

God, she looked good, he noted. So much better standing right there before him than it seemed from afar. In a _I'm gonna turn off and render your speechless for a while, sincerely, your brain_ kind of way.

"Ric," she echoed, also out of bright ideas in that department.

And then someone cleared their throat right next to them, making both of them turn.

Speak of the devil… Alaric's eyes landed on Elijah who couldn't choose worse timing, and narrowed of the will of their own as he went completely tense by the second, as if expecting having to jump into a fight any moment. And it wasn't just jealousy. Not entirely. Only 99% of it was. And he totally wasn't picturing multiple ways to murder him in brutal and torturous ways in his mind for even looking at Jenna. Well, if he was, it was strictly because this high-class mannered dude was older than the Bible, even if it wasn't quite making any sense. Nothing was making much sense lately.

"Oh, there you are," Jenna's voice changed instantly when she spotted Elijah as well, and pure excitement and relief in it made Alaric's scowl deepen. "I've been looking for you."

_I've been looking for you_, Ric mimicked in his mind. Irritated beyond himself, he mustered the "serial killer" friendly face and took his chance to study the vampire closely now that he had a good excuse to do it. His teeth remained clenched tight though and he hoped so, so much that mind-reading wasn't one of Elijah's amazing abilities. But then again, maybe it could have kept him miles away from Jenna, which Alaric was perfectly fine with. And – _Smith_? Really? Jeez!

"I am sorry, I got ambushed," Elijah said meanwhile, his eyes on Jenna only, and gave her a pointed look.

"Mrs. Carlyle?" Jenna winced sympathetically. "Yeah, she's got… claws."

And they both laughed as if it was an inside joke or something, and one of Alaric's hands balled into a fist involuntarily. Seriously, what the hell?

"Um, Elijah…" Jenna started, turning to Ric at last. "This is Alaric Saltzman. I don't think you've met before. He's my—" She stumbled and her eyes locked on Alaric's face for a long moment as he waited patiently for her to continue. He was her _what_? "He's a teacher in Mystic Falls High, and also a historian. You have it in common, I guess."

Aw, so _that_ was what they were now! Interesting!

"Alaric Saltzman?" One of Elijah's brows cocked as he gave him a somewhat apprehensive look. "I've heard a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"No kidding?" Ric muttered, choosing to ignore Jenna's obvious glare. He cleared his throat again and mustered a crooked smile. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine," he responded while the phrase _Just because I smile doesn't mean I like you – maybe I simply imagine you being hit by the truck_ popped up in his mind.

"You must be really enjoying this event then," Elijah supposed.

And Alaric decided to at the very least try and make his actual feelings a little less obvious so that everyone would stop rubbing them in his face.

"Immensely," he nodded in the end, getting really sick of pointless formalities. Neither of them needed this crap, yet it wasn't particularly smart to start giving punches in the middle of the mostly unaware crowd. "How could I not?"

"Indeed," Elijah agreed, "This society is so exquisite!" And maybe Alaric was getting really paranoid about the whole thing but he could have sworn that for the barest of moments his gaze flickered towards Jenna.

"Oh, finally you're free!"

Neither of them noticed Andie's arrival. What excuses the others had, Ric didn't know. Personally, he was trying to turn the vampire into ashes with his glare, and only turned to acknowledge her presence when started pulling Elijah away.

"Oh, hey, Ric," Andie gave him a small wave before looking at Jenna. "I hope you don't mind if I steal him for a little while."

"Just as long as he doesn't mind."

"Oh, I shamelessly succumb," Elijah called back courteously, a moment before they were both gone, and a thick silence fell.

Well, it wasn't silence, exactly. The orchestra was playing, the people were talking, and even the trees were rustling softly outside in the light breeze. Yet, the tension and uneasiness between them was so tangible that the saying about an elephant in the room wasn't that much of a figure of speech anymore.

A waiter tried to squeeze past them through the door, not that there was much room left. _Thank God_, Jenna thought as she grabbed yet another flute of champagne from his tray and downed half of it in one gulp, either to steady herself or at the very least to stop caring about not being steady – she wasn't sure.

If anything, she needed something to occupy herself with after being stupid enough to let Andie and Elijah leave. Should have found a way to keep them here, or to sneak away with them, she realized belatedly instead of ending up here one on one with Ric. They hadn't talked ever since… then. And being okay with him hanging around here – because she was a damned fool, for lack of better explanation – didn't mean she was ready to actually face him. Physically. Like that. At least sober. What should they say? What should they do? Were they supposed to just rewind these few months back and have a small meaningless talk about the weather? Were they supposed to simply ignore each other, turn around and walk in different directions simply because there was nothing left to say and the rest wouldn't be anything but pretence again?

In any case, figuring out required some thinking, and the party hosted by the founding families wasn't the place to do it. He saw her, he knew she was there, and she knew it, too. And yet once again he preferred to pointedly stay away, and Jenna had no intentions to interfere with the plan. For one thing, she had no idea how to behave around him anymore. She was hurt, the wound was too fresh to touch it before it even started to heal. And since he didn't want to be anywhere near her, which he proved already – fine, she didn't want him anywhere near her either then.

This stupid party was taking too much out of her as is to add Alaric Saltzman into the mix. She was too exhausted for any of this by this point. All these hours were taking their toll on her, perhaps. She was smiling when necessary, laughing when it was appropriate, nodding politely while listening and doing a bunch of other meaningless things when the only thing she really wanted to do was to join Ric somewhere away from the crowds, bury her face into his chest and pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist. And the thought was frightening, she realized. If only because she wasn't sure she wouldn't weaver if it actually was an option.

Alaric raked his brain helplessly, fighting to find something to say. Anything. Just to break the silence before they walked past each other and disappeared in the crowd or something. The stupid _How are you?_ that flashed in his mind died on his tongue. It would sound like a mockery perhaps, and he would probably get nothing but a laugh in his face in return.

Jenna saved him the trouble though.

"Enjoying the party?" She asked in a flat and perfectly polite voice she most likely used with everyone this night. Carol Lockwood copycat, no less. Except for the smile – Alaric didn't get even a trace of it.

"You can say that," he muttered. "You?" God, he needed a drink to handle this.

"You can say that," she shrugged.

"Well, I imagine Elijah is a wonderful company," he supposed, spotting a familiar hairdo outside on the terrace.

Bad move.

Bad, bad, bad move.

But he only realized it when it was too late to swallow the words and maybe choke on them for good measure. Jenna's eyes narrowed a little, her gaze sharpened, and wherever they were going, if anywhere, it was all gone.

She tipped her chin, her gaze flaring with challenge. "Yes, he is. And by the way, you have lost your right to be a jealous boyfriend here, Ric."

Had he? Alaric's heart sank. "It's not that!" He hissed defensively, stepping a little closer to her, which basically left only half a foot between them. He looked around the room again. "I don't trust him, and I don't want him around you. Especially now that… now that you know."

Jenna froze for a moment, overwhelmed by his proximity more than anything. "Well, you don't have a say about that either," she retorted. "And unless you go and tell Carol Lockwood what you told me, I have to go with the game. Then again, maybe you should do it. Maybe she would appreciate some honesty as well."

For a moment, they just glared at each other, almost making the sparkles fly.

In the end, Jenna turned on her heels to leave but Alaric caught her by the arm and spun her around until they were standing face to face, barely a few inches apart.

"Well, he wasn't exactly open with you either," he said in a low voice.

Jenna's breath caught in her throat, and for a long while her eyes just roamed around his face and all she could think about was his lips and what it felt like to have them of hers.

"I wasn't sleeping with _him_, Ric," she said at last, hoping her voice would stay more or less steady. Yeah, rrrrright! "I wasn't _with_ him. And I sure as hell didn't—" _love him_. She cut herself off. "It is not exactly comparable, don't you think?"

"I just want you to be careful, Jenna, is all."

"I can take care of myself, thank you."

_I know you can. Doesn't mean you have to_. He let go of her arm though and nodded curtly as he took a step back before he kissed her or something, now that she was too close not to do it. Paused and said, "Yes—yes, you can. But I—I don't want you to get hurt."

To that, she all but laughed. At least on the inside. "Don't worry about that. I think you have already done the job. Not sure anyone could ever beat that."

Oh, okay, maybe it was a little too much, Jenna admitted making her way through the crowd in vain attempt to put just as much distance between herself and Alaric as it was possible, not sure if she was more annoyed with the fact that he had no right to be jealous after everything that had happened between them or with herself and that fear that he actually wasn't. That it was only about Elijah being a vampire, not about her personally.

She felt torn, leaving him like that. And angry at both of them and the whole situation, and especially at herself for feeling so damn good at the sound of possessive notes in his voice when he had mentioned Elijah. Not that he had any _reason_ to feel that way, for heaven's sake! And no right, for that matter, to begin with. But… but thinking that the whole thing between them was nothing but a scheme, that maybe it was all about his vampire crusade and he never really cared hurt so much more than all the secrets combined.

Yet, there hardly was a way to fake what she had seen in his eyes. Pain, helpless fury, desperate struggle to find a way out of this situation that reflected her own inner turmoil, and for a moment, just for one short moment, on some selfish level it felt nice to know that they were together in this mess of emotions.

Jenna finished her champagne and stared blankly at the flute. The only remaining problem was that loving him and trusting him not to hurt her again were two entirely different things.

* * *

><p>It was a long shot, and a huge risk too, but the damned reception that dragged forever was the best cover Jenna could think of. It was now or never. Or more like – now or later but most likely with complications.<p>

When the crowd started to thin at last and Mrs. Lockwood seemed to have Elijah all for her own, Jenna tiptoed out of the house through the patio doors and onto the wide terrace, looking around cautiously to avoid running into someone again. There were mainly only the waiters and the cleaning crew left that already started working on the deserted areas while the guests were saying goodbyes in the hall and standing on the front steps.

The night air was chilly and she shivered a little, cursing herself for mindlessly leaving the jacket in the car. The garden was lit by a few antique-looking streetlamps scattered haphazardly around but to Jenna's endless relief the light was barely reaching the building. Despite the cold, however, cicadas were chirring in the trees and the sound was oddly comforting.

On a final look over the shoulder, Jenna took off her high heeled pumps and padded towards and around the corner sticking close to the walls where the shadows were deeper as she listened carefully. The marble floor was ice-cold beneath her nylon-clad feet and she bit her lip to focus on something else.

She stopped before yet another tall glassed door, placed her hand on the handle, took a deep breath like before diving into the cold water and pushed, praying for it to be open. And then, when the door gave in – for the hinges not to creak. To her endless relief, they didn't, and a moment later Jenna slipped inside and into the study that smelled of wood, leather and books, and closed it just as soundlessly behind her back. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark and start making out the silhouettes of the furniture. She could hear muffled voices behind the other door – the one that led into the inside corridor, but they were too low for her to understand a word or even guess who was speaking.

Well, at least it was relatively warm here.

She looked around, considering. Hopefully, everyone would leave within an hour or two, and she'd… well, she'd try to do something useful for once.

The sound of approaching footsteps sent a jolt of panic through Jenna's body and she crossed the room in a matter of seconds, her own footsteps completely soundless on thick carpet, and buried herself into massive thick curtains that hung open by the patio doors she'd entered through. With her back pressed against the paneled wall, she went completely still and even stopped breathing altogether. Being caught wasn't on the plan, not to mention that she didn't have a remotely decent explanation of what exactly she was doing there when everyone else was leaving.

For a moment, she thought she heard the door crack open – which one, she didn't know, but no other sounds followed no matter how hard she fought to catch anything, and in the end she decided it was just panic and her mind playing tricks on her, or maybe she could blame it on the beating of her heart somewhere in her throat that was both deafening and suffocating.

Jenna waited for a while, and then for a little while more, and then heaved a subtle sigh of relief and let go of the drape when she realized she was holding it in a dead white-knuckled grip. She closed her eyes, counting in her head to stabilize her breathing … and then snapped them open, horrified, when a hand closed firmly around her mouth.

**To be continued… **

* * *

><p>AN: well, as always comments, reviews, etc. are highly appreciated :) Sorry for making it so long again, I kinda didn't find a way to slit it somewhere in the middle :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note**: Wow, only a few days left until the season premiere …. And I know that I will be desperately waiting for Jenna to show up any moment :S Sorry for not updating sooner. Sadly, real life gets in the way of fun stuff sometimes :P

Hope you'll like it :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 <strong>

Damon turned the napkin clockwise, and then counterclockwise, as if looking for a better angle, his brows drawn together and the line between them deep with thought. Also, he looked pissed off, mostly because he was curious but the answer wasn't right before him, bright and clear, which almost made Ric sneer. He could practically hear the wheels in the vampire's head turn, and under any other circumstances he wouldn't lose his chance to throw some witty quip at Damon. If only it wasn't for the life and death situation…

"What the hell is this thing?" Damon asked at last tilting his head to his shoulder, his eyes all but burning through the napkin, making Alaric wonder if he could eliminate his problem simply by throwing it into the fire.

"I don't know," he took a sip of bourbon and scanned the ballroom again. "I thought it was Celtic at first but something was off with it, so it's—it's not. And not Runic either. You sure you hadn't seen anything like that before? I mean you've been around a while."

"Doesn't mean I spent my time at the libraries." Damon's frown deepened. He turned and studied Ric thoughtfully, considering. "Who was that guy, anyway?" Alaric arched an eyebrow in a _Really?_ Damon rolled his eyes. "Did he introduce himself?"

"No, he was too busy beating me up."

"Well, did you ask?"

"No, Damon, I was too busy being beaten up. Sadly, it took all of my attention."

The vampire sneakered. "In my days, the formalities were a must."

"Well then, in that case we can say for sure that he is either not that old, or not that mannered. I'm certain it narrows down the search." Alaric sighed and rubbed his eyes. His head was starting to throb from too much buzz and chatter around them mixed with plaintive music and all the jewelry that sparkled blindingly in the light of crystal chandeliers. "I am sure we will have a chance to have a proper conversation in a couple of days when he comes back to rip my guts out," he added dryly, flinching at the prospect, and added it to his mental to-do list – grade the World War II essays, buy milk, get killed. "He said, however, that Isobel took something from someone. And that _someone_ is not happy."

"Took – as in, stole?"

Alaric moved his shoulders vaguely in a half-shrug. "First thing that comes to mind." He took the napkin from Damon – seeing as to how the vampire was of no help in deciphering the symbol – and put into the inner pocket of his jacket. "So, Isobel didn't mention anything—" he faltered. "Hell, Damon, I don't know! Maybe she was asking questions or…" he trailed off, running out of ideas, frustrated.

It wasn't like Damon was his last resort, he still had a few days and a couple of ideas to check, but he was putting quite a lot of hope in something the vampire could know, perhaps. Yet, he didn't, and Alaric was back to square, which wasn't the brightest of realizations – assuming that his life had an expiry date that was all but tattooed on his forehead.

"No heart-to-hearts, sorry." Damon downed his drink. "Strictly business." He patted Alaric on the back. "Don't worry, Ric. We'll figure it out."

"It's not that I am worried about," Alaric said grimly.

"And if we don't, I'll take care of a perfect epitaph for you," Damon added enthusiastically.

Ric ignored him though, fingers flexing on his empty glass. "Who do you think sent him? This man, I mean… He looked like a pawn." His eyes fixed on Elijah who was talking to Carol Lockwood and an elderly gentleman in a beige suit across the room. A picture perfect. "What did Isobel take? And who is looking for it now?"

Damon followed his glance. "You know, this guy almost deserved being smoldered to ashes by your glares." He noted.

* * *

><p><em>Thank God<em>_,_ was the first thought that crossed Alaric's mind when the crowd finally started to file out of the Founders' Hall. He let out a relieved sigh and scanned the ballroom, glad that torturous hours of hiding in the corner and avoiding eye contact with anyone who looked even remotely familiar were finally over. He should have left hours ago, Alaric told himself and flinched inwardly. He had his own crap to deal with – a lot of crap, in fact, that required some concentration and thorough thinking. Instead, he chose to lurk here and steal occasional glances at Jenna when he was sure she was looking somewhere else lest she thought he was stalking her or something. Which was exactly what he'd been doing.

She was laughing and chatting with people he didn't know, a chime of a sound that was cutting through him like a knife, and making a damn good impression of enjoying herself. But all Alaric could do was wonder if the others could also see the tired lines around her eyes, caused probably by lack of proper sleep and feel overall weariness emanating from her, or if it was his personal privilege. Jenna didn't want him there and she made it pretty clear, she didn't even look his way once after that awkward encounter hours ago, but for some reason he was still reluctant to leave her alone, as if saying _I'm still here for you_.

It was good to see her. Just knowing that she was there, even if her smile wasn't for him anymore – it was better than nothing at all. Not to mention the fact that he had no idea when their paths would cross again, seeing as to how the communication was an issue right now. The thought was dreadful, making Alaric almost want for this nightmarish evening to never end.

"Ready?" The voice asked on the other side of the damned tree he was using as a shied, and the sound of it made his ears perk. He would've recognized John Gilbert even if he was dead perhaps, Alaric thought, as his knuckled itched to introduce themselves to the bastard's face. His jaw twitched and he actually contemplated the possibility for a moment or two.

"Yeah," it was Jeremy who responded if a little distractedly, and Ric saw his shaggy hair when he peeked between the leaves and branches.

"Good. Where's Jenna?"

"She's going to stay for a while," Elena said, and added, "Apparently, Mrs. Lockwood asked for her help. Someone will give her a ride later."

"Okay, let's go then."

In his shelter, Alaric frowned. Sudden alarm went off inside of him even before the suspicion formed fully in his mind.

Mrs. Lockwood? As in, Carol Lockwood? The one he'd seen leaving ten minutes ago? She didn't look like she needed any help, and she definitely didn't look like she was coming back to appreciate it. And since when Jenna was her side-kick, anyway?

And it was then when he spotted a familiar honey-colored mane across the room…

* * *

><p>To say that her whole life flashed before her eyes was a huge understatement. For a moment, Jenna felt completely and utterly paralyzed with horror. Her heart leaped up and got stuck somewhere in her throat and was thudding so hard she was feeling dizzy and weak, and she thought she'd actually collapse if whoever was holding her suddenly let go as she was saying mental goodbyes to everyone she could think of. Not that she could think properly, period.<p>

It wasn't her imagination then, she actually did hear someone open the door…

_Boy, I'm screwed_, was the first coherent thought that popped up in Jenna's mind, and then the panic truly kicked in, making her break in cold sweat.

Which happened a mere moment before a very familiar voice whispered into her ear, "Please, don't scream. It's me."

And then the hold on her was gone.

Jenna whirled around, stepped back, got tangled in the drapes and took her time to untangle herself back, feeling as ungraceful as it was possible as she clutched at thick folds for support – all under Alaric's gaze as he watched her maneuvers patiently.

"Jesus, Ric!" She hissed, pushing her hair out of her face, frustrated by the weakness in her knees that she chose to write off to the adrenaline rush caused by the hear heart-attacked and not… something else, not quite sure yet if she was angry or relieved that it was him and not someone else. "You scared hell out of me! What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" He hissed back, taking a small step closer, his eyes flaring up in the dark. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped. "Go away!"

"Not until you explain to me what the hell you're up to, sneaking around like… that," his gaze swept over her frame and fixed pointedly on her pumps lying on the floor.

For a long moment, Jenna simply stared at him, her heart still beating fast for the reasons she didn't want to go into. She was on a mission, kind of. She had to stay focused and concentrated, do her thing and get out of there before someone noticed something.

And how on earth was she supposed to be focused and concentrated with Alaric around, in the dark room, standing so close that she could catch a fine whiff of his cologne? The very one she got for him a few weeks ago, she noted. She found it when strolling lazily through the shops and boutiques downtown with Elena in search of new shoes and couldn't resist buying it because she loved the smell. Unsurprisingly, she found out later that she especially like it _on_ him. And now her insides coiled as her mind came to the verge of exploding with all these memories she fought to keep locked away for a while. God, it was just too much.

Jenna swallowed hard and nearly took a step back, so not up to dealing with any of this right now. And it was so quiet suddenly, and the air around was electrified… as if the sparkles were going to fly around them any moment.

She bent to snatch her pumps from the floor then and stomped towards the patio door, deliberately keeping as much distance from him as she could and looking straight ahead. "Fine, then I will leave." Which sounded petulant and 5-year-oldish, perhaps. Not that she cared. Screw her plans – all she needed and wanted was to get out of there and as far away from Alaric Saltzman as Mystic Falls would allow.

Furious at him for getting in her business… and at herself for not wanting him to stop, Jenna yanked the handle… but nothing happened. She frowned and wiggled it again. What the—

The glass rattled, but the door didn't give in. It was clearly locked.

"Did you do it?" She demanded, turning back to Alaric. "Did you lock it?"

Frowning as well, he crossed the nuisance of a distance between them and tried the door too, neatly sidestepping her away from it.

"Of course I did it," he muttered under his breath without looking at her. "The way you hate me already is not enough to make my life complete, Jenna, so getting myself trapped with you somewhere seemed like that right thing to do to make it even more fun."

It caught her off-guard, and thick, poorly masked pain hiding behind sarcasm all but knocked all air out of her lungs and made her freeze to a spot for a few moments as her mind tried to wrap around what he had said – with little success.

She did take half a step back when Alaric finally turned to her, tired and somewhat world weary, and obviously not liking the whole entrapment thing any better than she did if the rigid line of his shoulders and tight set of his jaw were any indication, making her wonder despite better judgment, despite herself, if there even was a chance for things to get better between them. Someday. Somehow. Right now, all these issues and unspoken words were piling on top of them like stones, burying them both under their weight. And standing there, looking at each other in silence, they could both feel this weight crashing them, making even the sound of their breathing too loud and out of place.

Why them, Jenna thought desperately. Why did it have to happen to them? Did they do something wrong? Something that made powers-that-be put them through all of this? She could almost hear them saying: _Hey, look, they've been happy for the whole five minutes already! Time for a shit-load of trouble! Someone, grab the pop-corn, the show's gonna be fun!_

That was exactly how she saw it happening, not merely surprised.

"Maybe the lock jammed," Alaric said quietly before letting go of the handle. "Or maybe they lock the whole place up for the night."

He looked away then, and Jenna's shoulders sagged a little. She didn't even realize how tense she was under his gaze. Of all people to find her here… she didn't have enough champagne to take it with dignity. Her head was spinning. Did he—did he really think she hated him? Did he think she could?

Oh God, how did they end like that?

She opened her mouth to say something – anything! – but the words died on her tongue. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she would never be able to hate him but her own wound was too fresh and deep to go into comforting the person that cut it open in the first place.

Jenna shook her head, trying to get her thoughts together somehow. It wasn't the secrets that hurt the most. It wasn't even the fact that everyone she ever cared about had been lying to her her entire life. No, it was more the fact that none of them considered her worthy of knowing. That _Ric_ didn't think she was worthy of the truth. She'd spent the last few days thinking about it almost non-stop, and it still wasn't making much sense. Instead, it was making her feel useless and endlessly dumb. How could she possibly not see that something was wrong? Was she really that blind? Or maybe it was about not wanting to see?

Okay, she had a few moments in life when she had to question her judgments and opinions. In fact, she had more of them than she would like to admit. But it felt so different with Alaric. _He_ felt so different. So how exactly was she supposed to wrap her mind around the fact that only a few days ago he was her everything and now they were nothing but strangers? How could something that she thought was so solid, so right, turn into nothing and fall apart right before her eyes?

She missed him badly in every possible way, and looking back at the times they'd spent together was agonizingly painful. If anything, he was her best friend. The only person in the whole wide world that she felt completely comfortable and open with. Ever. Someone she truly believed she could always turn to, no matter what, and he'd be there just like she knew she'd be there for him because that was how it worked, right?

It was even scarier how at some point she started to believe that he'd always be there, how she thought she'd always have that shoulder to lean on in times of crisis, a wall that would shield her from the storm. Funny how one minute she was a cynical grad student with a history of unfortunate relationships, and then – bam! – Alaric stepped in and turned her world upside down, and made her lose her sleep because for once the reality got much better than any dreams. But now there she was, in the middle of the worst crisis imaginable, and the only wall in close proximity was the one between them, thick and tall, and what was truly killing Jenna on the inside was that she couldn't see the way to get over it.

"Well, there's another door," she breathed out, more out of wish to break the pressing silence than anything, feeling drained all of a sudden, and more than willing to send everything to hell and just go home and curl into a ball of misery under the blankets, and will her tears to wash away the pain.

Yes, she was a mature, serious grown-up with two teenagers to take care of and a bucket-load of responsibilities to think about. But it would still be there in the morning. Today? Today she was just too tired to make it work. Chances were, said teenagers were safe and sound in their beds by now anyway.

Alaric let out a subtle breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yeah, well done, great job. And since when _Let's go and fuck up everything even more_ was a part of the plan, again? He, of all people, had absolutely no right to blame Jenna for anything because she, of all people, had every right to hate his guts until the end of his pathetic life. She was mad and she was hurt, and he had no words to make it better if only because he already was months late with what had to be said from the start. In fact, he was rather surprised Jenna was talking to him at all – instead of throwing chairs at him or something. And maybe it would be better if she actually did, Alaric thought ruefully. It would be better if she was openly angry instead of looking endlessly hurt.

God, if only he could just hold her! If only he could feel her warmth against his body. If only he could tell her how much he loved her and how sorry he was – for putting her through this, for keeping things from her, even for the very fact that the vampires existed. If only she'd let him.

But there was no comfort in the darkness, not anymore. There was no comfort in the truth. And there was fear deep in her eyes. Not of the vampires. Not of the shadows that were no longer safe, but of the pain, of having her world shattered all over again, of probably having to question and doubt every single thing she'd hear from now on, of always expecting to be lied to, of betrayal. And he couldn't help hating with passion every single bit of himself for being the cause of it, for breaking her in a way that could never be restored completely. And he didn't know how to live with it. _With_ it and _without_ her.

All he did know, though, was that he was in no position to feel sorry for himself. If anything, he got what he deserved. And it felt comforting in a way, fair even. Unlike that time when he'd learned the truth about Isobel and was wondering for months what exactly he'd been punished for. The only answer back then was making no sense – his only fault, apparently, was loving her too much.

Alaric knew he had to stop getting in Jenna's way, stop thinking he had any right to keep doing it. She told him earlier that he had no say in her life anymore, and it was true. Unfortunately, it didn't mean he could simply turn it off and stop caring – hell, he never would. And he knew he'd do her a favor by walking away and leaving her alone. But he was scared – scared of losing the only thing worth living for, the only connection he had to what was real, important. Yet, she was walking away, taking the light with her, and Alaric could feel it already – the darkness that started to take over him, the one he was too tired to fight.

Jenna was half-way through the room, maneuvering her way between the furniture in the dark when his ears perked and they both froze. A string of footsteps echoed outside, and then, as if in a slow-motion replay, the door knob started to turn.

Acting purely on instinct and more out of feeling of self-preservation than anything else, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her sideways until they were back behind the curtain again, and before Jenna knew, she was pressed against the wall with the weight of his body, barely able to breathe for so many damned reasons. And oddly, the sound of the voices only a few feet away from them was down at the bottom of the list. Alaric's heartbeat against her chest and his eyes glinting in the moonlight filtering through the patio doors, however, were another case entirely. At least for a while.

Jenna swallowed hard and opened her mouth but Alaric pressed his fingers to her lips, keeping her silent. The hinges creaked and someone pushed the door open. Her breath hitched in her throat as she waited for the same someone to come up and draw the curtain away any moment.

_Busted_.

"What is it, Frank?" The voice came from behind the curtain, making them both go completely still.

"Nothing," a reluctant reply came shortly. "I thought I heard—never mind. No one's here."

The lock clicked again as the door closed and the silence reigned again interrupted only by their heavy forced breathing and the antique clock on the mantelpiece. She kept her eyes locked on his, her head spinning from champagne and adrenaline rush, making it really hard to think. Period. Alaric's body was hot and strong against her, and so close that she could see dark-grey rim around the blue irises of his eyes and feel bourbon on his breath. And everything inside of her ached.

They waited for a few agonizingly long minutes before the commotion outside in the corridor finally started to fade. Finally, Alaric drew back slowly, his gaze holding hers for a few more seconds as his fingers fell from her lips, and it was only then that Jenna realized she was hardly breathing at all, too… overwhelmed on so many levels. Ric craned his neck and then stepped from behind the curtain when he was sure the horizon was clear.

Her head felt funny – all light and foggy, and her entire body was vibrant with adrenaline coursing through her system. And now that there were these safe five feet between them, Jenna took her chance to take a couple of steadying breaths as she fought to ignore the lingering scent of him that seemed to cloud her head, making the world spin around her like a carousel.

It hit her then, pretty much like a bucked of ice-cold water poured onto her head, and she crossed the room in a few swift strides and wiggled the door knob.

"Damn it!"

"What?" Alaric asked, alarmed, as he followed her.

"Locked," she breathed out and carefully tried it again. No result. Great.

"The decided not to take chances," he supposed solemnly beside her.

She leaned against the door for a moment, trying to hear what was going on outside past her insanely escalated heartbeat that was practically crashing her eardrums. Oh, okay… think, just think. This was so crazy! What if they got caught? She could have been related to one of the founding families but sneaking around like that definitely qualified as trespassing – perhaps – and Jenna somehow doubted the police would study her family tree if she and Ric ended up in a cell.

He was still standing beside her and watching the door, she could see it out of the corner of her eye, the outline of his profile the only pale spot in near complete darkness, and she let the corners of her mouth tug up a little unable to control it or hold it back. All this crazy confusion and helpless anger aside, she couldn't help feeling relieved to have him here, which, she knew, was a reflex more than anything. Endless stupidity and total lack of self-preservation, if you please. Even if she wasn't completely willing to admit it even to herself. Even if it made her cringe on the inside because somehow her self-esteem bar dropped way down.

"Maybe it's better that way," she muttered under her breath, stepping away, eager to put some distance between them.

"What?" He all but whirled around, frowning. "We better get out of here before they come back."

"Be my guest, Ric."

She turned away from him and scanned the room, fighting to stay focused on something that wasn't _Alaric_. Tall, floor to ceiling bookshelves were filled with thick volumes. She could feel the faint scent of tobacco in the air and it didn't take her long to spot a chest with cigars on the redwood table. The smell of the past, of something lingering in the back of her mind, pulling her back to the times when things were good and simple _just because_. It was still there, that feeling of safety, of comfort, even if the last time she'd been here was almost fifteen years ago.

It changed a little, Jenna noted absently, chewing on her lower lip. They must have moved the furniture once or twice over the years, and she remembered the room being bigger somehow. But then again, everything seemed bigger when she was nine if only because she herself was small, Jenna reminded herself. It was _the_ room. She was fairly certain of it. Besides, it wasn't the time to reminisce about the past. This journey down the memory lane could wait until her mission was accomplished, one way or the other, and she was somewhere else, without Alaric hovering in her peripheral view pretty much like a red cloth before the bull.

He ignored her generous offer to get out – seeing as to how it was a problematic thing to do. Not that he'd leave without her anyway…

"Okay," Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed an exasperated sigh, feeling completely drained, tired as hell of non-stop fighting – with her, with himself, against the world. "Fine." _Just don't get all worked up about it_. "Can you please at the very least explain what is this all about?" Silence. "Jenna—"

Jenna turned. _Yeah, about that… _It was really, _really_ hard to keep a bunch of thoughts together, so she kept juggling between him and why exactly she needed so bad to stay undetected here. That last glass of champagne was one glass to many, perhaps.

"I need to get something here," she said as if it explained everything.

He blinked. Okay, they were finally getting somewhere. "And you absolutely couldn't do it otherwise? Say, in the light of the day? Um… legitimately?" She didn't say anything. "This place is probably stuffed with cameras, for heaven's sake!"

"Only on the outside."

"Jesus," he breathed out and shook his head.

"Look, you know where the door is—" Jenna gestured vaguely towards it and then decided to forget about him altogether for a while.

She scanned her surroundings one more time, putting bits and pieces together until she had a picture from years before in her head, almost as clear as if she'd traveled back in time to that late September day. The day she'd come to the Founder's Hall for the first time. Not that she could see much now, what with the almost pitch-black darkness.

Okay, Sommers, think!

Pointedly dismissing Alaric's exasperated _You're impossible_ growl that much have meant that he thought she was nuts, Jenna crossed the room stepping instinctively only on her toes even though she knew the carpet was muting her every step. She grabbed checked plaid that was draped carelessly over the back of the armchair in the corner, returned back, dropped it to the floor and tucked it neatly into the crack between the floor and the door. Old trick she used to stay up at night and read while her parents thought that the lights were out and she was sound asleep.

She crossed the room again then and approached the glass patio doors. The garden was lit with silvery moonlight and she paused for a moment, peering intensely outside and fighting to catch any movement. Yet, everything remained still, save for a gentle sway of the trees in the night breeze. She could hear the sounds of the conversations coming from the open doors that led to the ballroom but they were muted and distant and seemed to belong to some other reality. On a soft, rueful sigh – that also belonged to someone else, someone who had time to feel sorry for all the things taken away from her – Jenna pulled thick drapes close again, making sure no light was coming in, and the room was completely and absolutely black.

She groped her way to the working desk and reached for the reading lamp to turn it on, and it was only then that she noticed that her hands were trembling slightly and she had to take a couple of subtle, steadying breaths.

The room filled with the soft, honey light on an instant. Jenna stilled for a moment, half expecting for something to happen – for the alarm to howl, for the sound of running outside in the corridor, for the pounding on the door. Nothing happened. No one kicked the door open, no one burst in and demanded the answers, and the only sound Jenna heard was the clock ticking on the shelf.

She looked around once again, trying to picture the room the way it looked years ago in her mind. Walked up to the wall then and folded the corner of the carpet as her heartbeat accelerated in anticipation. What if it was the wrong room? What if it was her mind playing tricks on her? God, what if she made it all up and then believed it was real? She didn't even know what she was looking for, and yet she wanted to find it so bad!

Perfectly polished floorboards were smooth beneath her fingers, and Jenna paused for a moment and swallowed uneasily, feeling like an idiot. And then she felt it, right there. A loose nail. Or whatever it was. Just like before, like when she did the same thing first.

She pushed it like a button on remote control, still not sure anything would happen. But the next moment a dry crack broke the silence and one of the floorboard popped up a little – not enough to draw the attention of someone who didn't know what too look for if it happened by accident but enough for her to try and scrape it with her nails, and ease it up and away, revealing a black opening in the floor.

"My god," Alaric breathed out, making Jenna all but jump and then fall in the least graceful manner possible out of surprise. She turned and found him sitting in a crouch right there by her side, so close that she could feel his breath falling on her neck when he spoke. Oh boy, the man could move quietly. Or maybe she was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice anything. Much to her relief though, Ric wasn't looking at her and didn't seem to be merely bothered by the closeness, his eyes cast down. "How did you know about it?" He whispered, astonished.

He turned to her then, and the awe on his face – an expression of a little boy who was playing pirates and found an actual treasure – made Jenna smile. It was… it was good to have him there with her. It felt so right somehow in more ways than she could count. Like an island of comfort in the stormy ocean of utter chaos around her. Like—like all other moments they shared before, just the two of them.

And it was dangerous ground, dangerous thoughts she knew she shouldn't go into. But she let it slip. Just for now, just this one time. It didn't mean anything, Jenna told herself. It didn't mean she was reconsidering her position about what he did, about this whole situation between them. She simply… she couldn't feel otherwise, not when he was looking like that.

"Because no one pays attention to a sneaky kid," she whispered back softly, as if it was their secret now. Which it probably was.

Alaric's lips quirked at the sight of her small smile. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body and the scent of her hair that Jenna tucked nervously around her ears – a moment before he almost reached to do it himself – out of habit, because it felt so damn familiar and natural. Instead, he cleared his throat and balled his hand, curling his fingers into his palm unless they started acting of the will of their own.

She broke eye contact then, reached into the opening and pulled out something wrapped in a black velvet cloth. Paused to exchange quizzical looks with him, and then unfolded the cloth carefully, both of the barely breathing at this point.

It was a small wooden chest, the one that could have been used to keep jewelry and the like. It felt heavy in her hands, and, still surprised to find anything at all, Jenna ran her hand absently over the lid covered with the finely carved ornament as she tilted her head to her shoulder, examining it closely. Instantly, following her natural curiosity and unnatural love for trouble, she tried to pry it open, but the lid set tight. It was clearly locked, a small metal plate with the key hole winked teasingly at her.

"Miranda used to take me here with her sometimes," Jenna explained. "That day I was playing hide-and-seek. Except no one was looking for me, they were all busy with… other stuff. So, I was hiding under the table when Grayson came in, and I saw him putting something in here…" she fought to find the words to explain the reason behind her actions. "He didn't see me, of course. And then someone called me, and I—He wouldn't hide something unless it was something important, right?"

Alaric met her eyes again, his brows furrowed. "Wait, you think this can have something to do with—with the vampires?"

Jenna's smile turned wry and bitter. "I think everything about this Council has something to do with the vampires." She dropped the cloth back into the opening and then replaced the floorboard before straightening up the carpet again. No one would even know, she thought, getting up to her feet. "I forgot about what I saw back then, until—" _all of that craze came up_. She rubbed at her forehead. "I can just sit and do nothing when a bunch of prehistoric monsters wants my family dead, okay? What if," her gaze darted downwards, "what if it is something important?"

Alaric watched her a few moments, and then nodded slowly, "Okay," trying not to smile at her wording. Prehistoric vampires? He also wanted to add that she didn't have to justify any of it, that she didn't have to be defensive about what she was doing. Not with him. That he would never question or judge any of her reasons, and that he only freaked out because he didn't want her to get in trouble. That he could understand her helplessness and confusion and wish to do something, to be of help like no one else. But when he opened his mouth, she looked away, and the moment was gone.

Meanwhile, Jenna studied the lock again. She shook the chest and heard a distinct sound of something rolling inside of it. Well, at least it wasn't empty, which was better than nothing at all although with her luck it may very well turn out being something absolutely useless. Okay, there should be a way to pick the lock… somehow. It wasn't a vault in the Swiss bank, for heaven's sake! But… but she'd probably better think about it somewhere else.

"Any idea what's inside?" Alaric asked, pulling her out of her messy thoughts as he eyed the chest if a little cautiously – like half expecting it to explode in her hands or something.

"Nope, not a clue." Jenna shook her head.

Hell, she wasn't even sure it was the same thing that Grayson had left in there. For one thing, it didn't look like it stayed untouched for fifteen years. Back then, years ago, she came back to see what he was hiding, curious as ever. She managed to find the loose nail and remove the floorboard but then Miranda came in looking for her so that they could go home, and Jenna hurried to replace it back and leave before someone saw what she was doing. And eventually she simply forgot about it. Until now.

It was the sound of the footsteps in the corridor that made them both freeze.

"Guess we better—" Alaric began.

"Yeah," she nodded. No need to push their luck.

She went through the whole routine backwards – turned off the lights, opened the curtains to let the light of the garden lamps in, threw the plaid back onto the armchair. Tiptoed back to the door and pressed her ear to it. Silence. Then she turned to Ric who was kneeling by the patio door, a paper knife in his hand.

"Any luck?"

"You don't have a survivor's kit and water supply here, do you?" He chuckled softly without looking back. A soft click followed, and when he pushed the handle, it gave in easily.

Jenna sighed with relief. "Do I want to know how you acquired these… _breaking-in_ skills?"

He considered her question for a few moments. "No, not really."

"That's what I thought." She grabbed her pumps from the floor and reached for the handle to finally get out of there, but then paused without turning back. "I don't hate you, Ric," Jenna said in a weary voice feeling like she had weight of the world on her shoulders. She was mad at him, she was hurt like never before in her entire life, and she really, really wanted to beat him with her shoe. But there was one thing that Jenna knew for sure – she could never be able to hate him. Never. "I just—I thought I was done with mistakes," she finished in a whoosh of breath.

Alaric's heart leaped, and he took his time to process her words, not certain he got them right the first time around.

"You really think that what happened between us was a mistake?" He asked in a low, hoarse voice after a few painfully long moments.

She was standing so close now that he could feel fine scent of her peach lotion, the one Jenna was rubbing in her skin every morning after shower – the exact same scent that still lingered on his towels and pillowcases, making his stomach wrench with agony whenever he was lucky to catch it – mixed with her delicate perfume, and the only thing he wanted to do was to pull her close and bury his face in her hair and hold her until all this despair was gone.

But whatever hope he had, whatever hope he was desperately clinging to… his mind had gone blank now, refusing to process what he'd just heard. She couldn't have said it, she couldn't have possibly mean it… So close and yet it felt like he needed to walk for a hundred of years and yet he wouldn't be a step closer.

Jenna pushed the door open at last. "Let's just get out of here."

No one shouted "Get her!" The terrace was empty. She heard Ric slip out of the library behind her and close the door but didn't turn back, not able to actually face him, to meet his eyes, feeling guilt and regret overwhelm her. Nothing would ever change the fact that he was the best thing that happened in her life, that the time she'd spent with him was priceless and precious. She had never felt better. Yet, Jenna couldn't quite answer his question, and it was pressing heavily down on her – what if all of that wasn't enough?

She paused at the corner to put her pumps back on and straighten up her dress after crawling all over the library. She ran her fingers through her hair, took a steadying breath putting the smile back on (just in case) and stepped inside the house again – with the only purpose to get through it and the hell out of there as soon as possible. It was almost deserted by now, much to her relief, save for a few waiters, and Jenna headed straight for the front door—

And all but bumped into Andie.

"Oh, Jenna, I thought you—" she faltered. "Hey, Ric." Andie's eyes darted between the two of them for a moment or two before fixing on Jenna. "I'm leaving now. Do you need a ride?"

"Yes, that would be—" Jenna started.

"No, it's okay," Alaric stepped in, cutting her off and leaving her all but gawking, jaw dropped. "I've got it covered," he assured Andie, whose eyebrow arched ever so slightly, seeing as to how their not really talking to each other wasn't quite inconspicuous.

Andie hesitated for a moment but then let her lips stretch into a wide smile, "Oh, good, I will go with Damon then."

And what was Jenna supposed to say to _that_? _No, screw Damon, let's go_? She opened her mouth, closed it again, took her time to gape and splutter reminding herself of a fish in the tank, torn between desperate need to put a few miles between herself and Alaric and some sort of female solidarity because – Damon, duh? He was an ass, her was a vampire – a one-hundred and something years old vampire hitting on her underage niece… which Jenna didn't want to think much about. But on some level she sure could understand what Andie was seeing in him, and she didn't really want to rain on her hot guy parade just because her own love life was a miserable mess.

Besides, Andie was long gone before she formed a single coherent thought in her mind anyway.

It didn't mean she had to go anywhere with Alaric though… except that her choices were rather limited at this point. She could probably walk it, of course… about ten miles… in the middle of the night. Oh, damn it!

Still playing with some options in her head – like calling for the cab for Christ's sake! – she followed him, falling in step with his long sure strides.

"Where is your car?" Alaric asked as they stepped out onto the front porch.

The air was so cold now that it hit Jenna right through her bones, and she shivered involuntarily, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

"Elena took it," she called back, hoping he couldn't hear the chatter of her teeth. "She said it would be too tempting to jump out of the car if she went with John."

Alaric's lips quirked as he stopped at the edge of the steps and turned to her. Well, if anything, they could always bond over their understanding in regards of John Gilbert.

Jenna glanced up and for a short while they simply stood there under the porch light, looking at each other, their breaths puffing out in small white clouds. And then, before she knew what he was doing, Alaric shrugged out of his jacket and draped it casually over her shoulders, catching her by surprise. Instantly, she was washed over by the familiar scent and warmth of him – everything that was _Ric_, everything that was butterflies in her stomach, and lazy slow kisses, and her own definition of happiness. She swallowed hard as he tugged lightly at the lapels to wrap his jacket tighter around her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'm—I'm fine, really," Jenna tried to protest, scared of how appealing the idea of simply making a small step forward and falling into his arms started to look by the second.

"Don't be ridiculous," he offered her a small sad smile, and his hands lingered near her body before he dropped them down to his sides. "It's freezing. This way."

Numbly, Jenna followed him down the gravel driveway and towards the parking lot for the guests located behind the mansion, her mind blank. She knew it was alcohol, overall exhaustion and sleep-deprivation that blocked her reasonable thinking, but for once she was glad for it.

Alaric held the door open for her and then circled the car to slide into the driver's seat while Jenna was fiddling with the safety belt. She watched him buckle up and start the engine, and reached for radio out of habit because it was what she normally did when they were driving somewhere together, but then jerked her hand back and turned away to stare out the window, feeling the color rise up her cheeks and hoping he didn't notice anything. The small chest was lying in her lap now but Jenna refused to think about it. Refused to think, period. She curled her fingers into the fabric of Alaric's jacket and held it close around her frame, not as much for the warmth – he'd turned on the heater and she didn't quite need it anymore, technically – as for the illusion of his embrace and safety that she needed so bad, seeing as to how the illusion was as much as she could get.

* * *

><p><em>It is the middle of the night and Alaric is fast asleep. Jenna's hand is lying on his chest, right where his heart is, and she watches it rise and fall with <em>_as he breathes, feeling steady, sure thuds beneath her palm. Her eyelids are heavy but Jenna fights the weariness, determined to hold on to the moment for a little while longer, wondering despite herself if it is even real. _

_A string of memories flashes before her mind's eye and she smiles to herself, her lips curving of the will of their own. She looks up and watches Alaric for a few moments, memorizing the outline of his stubborn chin shaded with stubble that has a bluish color in the darkness and the way his long eyelashes throw shadows on his cheeks. On impulse, she wants to reach out and run her hand through his hair, push it from his forehead, but she holds back fearing to disturb his sleep. Instead, she simply cuddles closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder._

"_I love you," Jenna whispers, which comes out almost soundless even in complete stillness of the night,_

_Her smile grows as the warmth of the realization fills her soul and she repeats the words slowly in her mind, savoring each and every of them. She will tell him, she thinks. She will let him know eventually. But now she is glad that he can't hear her, and she can relish in this epiphany, in the moment that belongs only to her. _

_As she lets out a soft sigh and finally lets her eyes flutter close, she doesn't see the corners of Alaric's lips tug up a little. _

"_I love you, too," he mouths but Jenna is already asleep._

* * *

><p>Alaric gave her a quick look out of the corner of his eye, and then another one. And then tried to concentrate on the road at last, his eyes fixed on the grey asphalt illuminated by the headlights outside the windshield and his fingers closed firmly around the steering wheel. His hand itched to reach out and take hers, the way he always did in situations like this. A simple gesture that felt as natural as breathing, and not being able to do it now felt almost like having one of his limbs cut.<p>

He wished he could know what she was thinking. Alaric sighed subtly. She must have been feeling horrible, confused. And that things that she said… God, she couldn't have possibly meant it for real!... Or could she? His insides twitched painfully.

They weren't on the smoothest of patches now, true. Hell, it took him two years and a great amount of alcohol to even start grasping everything that was poured down on Jenna in a matter of hours. He knew it and he could understand the defensiveness and these walls she'd built around herself if only for the sake of her own sanity. Of all people in the world, he was the one to understand it perfectly.

But he couldn't help feeling helpless all the same. And useless, too. There was nothing he could do to make it easier for her if only because she wouldn't let him. He couldn't push either because she would push back twice as hard. He couldn't talk to her because she wouldn't listen. And he couldn't protect her, be with her, because she wouldn't allow him anywhere near her which he could also understand.

Stolen moments like this one were all he had, but even now he felt that if he merely tried to fix the things between them, he would only make it worse. The whole situation felt pretty much like being stuck in the quicksand – the more you move, the faster you'd go down. Maybe it was all about waiting still after all, about giving her time to process it. So that was why he kept his mouth shut and his eyes fixed on the road, which, sadly, didn't change the truth – they were falling away, falling apart, and he felt completely powerless to change it.

They drove in silence interrupted only by the soft purr of the engine, and eventually Jenna fell into that numb slumber – the state when she was neither asleep, nor awake, lulled into something in-between by the warmth and monotonous blinking of the trees outside her window, her forehead leaned against the cool glass as she stared sightlessly outside. The starts were bright in the cold, pitch-black sky, and for a little while she almost managed to pretend that this carousel of motion was all there was to the world – the world where everything was right with Alaric, and where this ride could never end.

Jenna jerked and straightened up when the car came to a stop in front of the Gilberts' house where all windows were black, and the dim porch light was illuminating the front lawn, giving it weird yellowish shade. Oddly, and much to her disappointment, a twenty-minute trip seemed to last only a few seconds.

She climbed out of the car and was greeted by cold, sharp gusts of wind, and they walked together up the porch steps – Jenna didn't need to look back to know Alaric would follow. But then again, she was wearing his jacket, so it was probably a logical thing to do if he wanted to have it back.

Once at the door, she stopped and turned as memories of other moments like this flashed through her mind – starting from the one when he walked her home from the Grill on the first night they met and ending with him doing the exact same thing last week, with the only difference that last week she grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him down until their lips met, her head spinning from a couple of shots of tequila and that amazing feeling Ric alone was to blame for. And he didn't, in fact, say goodbye until the following morning.

So not the mental image she needed right now!

"I didn't know you were planning to come tonight," Jenna said for lack of better words seeing as to how simply slamming the door in his face wasn't that much of an option after he was nice enough to drive her home.

Alaric tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants, feeling awkward and out of place. He dropped his gaze to his feet for a moment before looking up at her again.

"Carol Lockwood invited me." _And I wanted to see you so bad that I didn't find it in me to turn her down._

"Oh." '_Oh'? Really? Geez!_ "Um, well… thanks… for the ride, and all." Jenna cleared her throat, and the finally remembered to hand his jacket back, not quite feeling like letting go of it, but what other choice did she have?

Alaric took it. "Sure, anytime." He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, cleared his throat. "Jenna, I'm sorry. For… for all this mess. For everything."

"Don't," she put her hand up and shook her head. "I can't go into this, Ric. Not now… not yet."

He studied her for a few moments and then nodded slowly, which looked like he was losing a battle with himself. "Okay." How was it even possible for the right thing to turn into something so wrong? Well, maybe because it wasn't the right thing from the start, a small evil voice singsonged in his head, and he grimaced inwardly. "Look, I know it's—it's overwhelming. But if you need anything, of if you want to talk, or—"

"I won't," Jenna cut him off firmly and with more determination than she was actually feeling, and then kicked herself mentally at the sight of hurt that flickered across his face, feeling guilty and pretty much disgusted with herself for punishing him for her own pain. Alaric caused it, true, but she still had no right to shoot it right back at him. It wasn't her. Or at least it hadn't been… until now.

She wasn't blind for heaven's sake! She wasn't that selfish and self-centered to ignore the obvious. He was clearly struggling as well, fighting to find some solution for both of them, groping his way forward like a blind man in the dark. Jenna could almost feel his pain with her skin, and desperate hope in his eyes was breaking her heart, making her want to avoid his gaze as best she could. And she could see the wall between them that both tried to get over but only kept falling down from over and over again. There was nothing that she wanted to do more than to wipe that fear off of his face and just go back to how they were… before. To how she knew they were supposed to be.

But she wasn't ready to see the situation through his eyes yet. Jenna knew – or at least some rational part of her did – that there was reason behind what he did, what _they all_ did. After all, she didn't rush to drop the adoption bomb down on Elena the next day after the funeral of the only parents she knew and ended up being a bad guy in the end, also feeling hurt by her niece's refusal to understand.

Rationally, she could see it all. Yet, no one had ever hurt her as much as Alaric Saltzman did and Jenna couldn't simply dismiss it, and forget, and move on. She needed to sort out her feelings first, find her balance again. She needed to come in terms with herself before considering other points of view, whoever they belonged to.

And hell if he was helping, standing before her and looking just as crashed and devastated as she felt! Damn it!

"Goodnight, Ric," she said quietly. _God knows, we all need some rest_.

She turned away, if only to finally avoid his eyes, and reached to retrieve the spare key from under the pot on the outer windowsill when it downed on her that her clutch bag was either in her car or somewhere at the Lockwoods. In the light of the events of the night it totally slipped her mind, although, to be completely honest, Jenna couldn't care less.

But before she had a chance to so much as move, she felt Alaric catch her by the wrist and whirl her around, and the next thing she knew was that his lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, and he was kissing her for all she was worth, as though his life depended on it.

For a moment, Jenna was stunned, too shocked to even start processing what was happening. But then her body decided to take the matters into its hands, figuratively speaking, and her lips parted, yielding to Alaric, and she was kissing him back with all the urgency and need that coursed through her system – as though her life depended on it, too. Her stomach was flopping like crazy and her skin tingled where he touched her, and somewhere deep inside she wanted the time to stop so that the moment could last forever. She felt his hand let go of her wrist, run up her arm and rake through her hair keeping her head tilted up, as he deepened and slowed the kiss, making her knees go weak, and if there was anything to push her over the edge, that was it.

Later, Jenna knew, she would blame it on too much champagne and being so physically and emotionally drained that her mind simply didn't belong to her anymore. Now, though, her lips were moving on his as she marveled in the feeling, against common sense and logic. He tasted like bourbon and desperation, triggering something inside of her that she couldn't explain with words, and she knew that if he let go of her now, she would most likely collapse and fall apart.

And then it was over, as suddenly as it began. Jenna's cheeks were flushed and her lips felt swollen, and they were both breathing hard when Alaric pulled back.

"It wasn't a mistake," he said in a lowest of whispers which she barely heard past the beating of her heart that seemed to resonate in every part of her body. His hand slid down her cheek, leaving a burning trace on her skin. "And we're not done."

And then he was gone, leaving her standing there and watching him walk away with her heart pounding so hard it was about to crack her ribs and jump out of her chest any second, a small wooden chest cradled to her midsection as though it was something Jenna could hold onto to keep herself steady. And it took her a moment or two to realize that somewhere during this searing kiss her brain must have evaporated through her ears.

* * *

><p>As back headlights of Alaric's car disappeared around the corner, an engine of a sleek black car parked at the curb on the opposite side of the street came to life and started to purr softly. Isobel watched the dark house for a moment or two before starting to move in the opposite direction, her lisp formed into a small half smile. Boy, what a drama! These two were desperately missed in some Mexican soap opera.<p>

She all but snickered, cruising down the deserted back streets, heading towards the shabby motel on the outskirts of the town – the kind where the manager at reception would never ask for the ID or look the other way if she needed it. Not that it was a big deal, she could always use compulsion. But she chose to stay as inconspicuous as she could since suspicious memory loss could always arise unnecessary suspicion, at least for a few days. She knew she'd find a nice foreclosure in a day or two but for now the motel would do, if she tried not to think of who could possibly be killed there. At least that was what the smell in the bathroom implied.

For a moment, Isobel considered stopping by some bar to pick up a snack. At this time on Saturday night it probably was full of people willing to do absolutely anything just for the hell of it with an amount of alcohol in their blood to make her drunk, too. But in the end she chose to settle for a blood bank "donation", not quite up for the action. Hunting was a game. An art even, if you please. She hated turning it into some bleak grocery shopping, and the night was long enough to kill the buzz.

Or maybe it was watching her husband pining for the little perfect Barbie, Isobel thought, and tried to understand if she was more annoyed or amused by the fact that Alaric was playing house with her daughter's legal guardian and aunt, looking pretty much like a lost puppy whenever his eyes stopped on Jenna Sommers. Really, of all single women in Mystic Falls— Speak of narrow world.

She shook her head and turned into a small dark parking lot. Not that it was an issue seeing as to how she had a better vision than the cat. It was more a matter of irritation than actual inconvenience now.

So, John was right – it was like a caricature, them all running around, searching for a way to break the curse, to find the answers, all the while living through their small personal dramas… the story could have received an Oscar or two.

She climbed out of the car, locked it and headed for her room, fiddling for the key card in her purse. The area was run down and depressing, the hotel itself was last painted or redecorated before she was born, or so it looked, and once again Isobel reminded herself to find a more decent accommodation as soon as possible. Like, before the bedbugs ate her in her sleep. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped into the room and reached for the switch. Good thing she was already dead, or she'd most likely have a wish to do it now.

A long hot bath would probably help. Or shower. Or not so long, if she remembered the dingy bathroom correctly. Or may she should just—

Isobel stopped short in her tracks, freezing to the spot in the middle of the room.

The place was dump of dumps but the man sitting in the chair under the stand-lamp made it look like a palace, which Isobel blamed on the air on unmistakable dignity that was practically radiating from him. She had heard of him but never actually had a chance to meet him, as in – was lucky enough to avoid the pleasure so far. Yet, there he was, looking at her with his calm, cold eyes that made her shiver on the inside. She tilted her head up and cocked her eyebrows questioningly. Rule number one in the vampire society – or any society, come to think of it – was to never show the fear, or confusion, or combination of both.

"Isobel Saltzman, I presume?" He asked, even though Isobel was sure he knew exactly who she was – otherwise he would never ever be sitting there in the first place – and the question was a mere formality because in his opinion it was the right thing to do, regardless of the situation or the nature of his business. She chose not to put much into his apprehensive, measuring glance he swept her with. To confirm her point, he didn't wait for her answer and went on, "My name is Elijah, and I believe we have something to talk about."

**To be continued… **

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><p>AN: Please review, it means a lot :)


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